


The Hunted

by potionsmaster



Series: Wild Card [1]
Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Biotics, Canon-Typical Violence, Detective Work, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Gaslighting, Gen, M/M, Misuse of Biotics, Nightclub, Sex, Violence, booze, the whole 9...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 12:20:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potionsmaster/pseuds/potionsmaster
Summary: “There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter…”~ Ernest HemingwayAs a detective tracks a serial killer in the Silean Nebula, she crosses paths with an unusual human. She doesn't know who he is when he arrives in the space port, or anything about him, really, until they keep running into each other time and again.  He reveals his name is Shepherd and he's there for the same reason she is.   Unfortunately for her, she has no idea who she's tangling with.Then again, neither does he.





	1. I Don't Believe in Coincidences

**Author's Note:**

> Um...this was not what I intended to write for the Big Bang, but……...I love it. So...you guys get it. This is part of my OC Shepard Mark’s backstory and his debut into my fic worlds. (he is a non-canon Sheploo. That includes how he spells his last name.) This is pre-game 1, pre-Torfan, pre-Skyllian Blitz. It's not mentioned anywhere in the fic, but this is the mission that earned him the invite to the Villa and the N program. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.
> 
> Without further ado! 
> 
> MUCH thanks to my beta, [ThreeWhiskeyLunch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeWhiskeyLunch/pseuds/ThreeWhiskeyLunch/works) , and my idea-bouncers, [mareel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareel/works), [joufancyhuh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh/works), and [YourLocalPriestess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLocalPriestess/pseuds/YourLocalPriestess/works). This would not be as awesome as it is without you ^__^
> 
> All hail the queen of the hour and amazing artist [Azzy_Darling](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzy_Darling/pseuds/Azzy_Darling/works)!! I couldn’t ask for a better partner, and once again, you amaze me with your skill at running this whole thing. My hat's off to you, you wonderful, crazy person. Here's the links for the [art](http://azzydarling.tumblr.com/post/165399743848/the-image-for-the-banner-is-just-a-ea-promo-image) and [playlist](http://azzydarling.tumblr.com/post/165399680933/listen-to-the-playlist-here-this-is-my) masterposts.
> 
>  _[listen to the playlist here!!](https://8tracks.com/darlingazzy/the-hunted-for-potionmaster)_ It's so perfect, it's like whoa. *fans self*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detectives always ask at minimum three questions in a situation, starting with the 'who'

 

 

 

 **_The Hunted_** , by potionsmaster

 

Rating: M for game level violence, death, sex, drugs, mind games, the whole nine

 

 **Chapter** 1:  _I Don't Believe in Coincidences_

 

~***~

 

I don’t know his name when I first see him in the streets.

 

 _My_ name is Maliana.  

 

I don’t know a lot of things about him.  Only that he is almost a full head taller than the rest of the humans surrounding him and he has a practiced look of hardened nonchalance on his angular face as he wades through the crowd at the spaceport.  Predatory, even.  Can’t hide the rigidness in his spine, either.  Which means military.  Either shore leave, or the so-called infamous ‘Cat 6’, I would hazard...no fatigues, no rucksack.  Perhaps a Blue Suns merc, then.  They are run with an almost military-like precision.  I don’t see a tattoo, though.  Most intriguing...  Most humans don’t catch my attention immediately.  This one, however...I know he’s different the moment I lay eyes on him.

 

He doesn’t see me.  I keep myself hidden in the shadows, nobody of consequence.  Watching.   He disappears into the customs building and doesn’t come out before I have to leave.  Ah well.  I put him out of my head; he is more than likely just passing through.  Like so many others before him.  I activate my omni-tool and check for any recent notifications.  

 

Nothing.

 

No pings, no hits back.  

 

I can breathe easier tonight.

 

~***~

 

The tall human is back. I hadn’t expected to see him again; the Silean Nebula isn't known for military outposts.  He’s in the market sector, talking up shop owners and just...chatting.  Wasting time.  He’s in civilian clothing but it doesn't fit his demeanor.  That strikes me as a bit odd.  Nobody comes here to Nevos for just ‘shore leave’.  If they do, it means two things.  One, they’re lying.  And two, they don’t care if it’s known they are. He’s bold.  He has a rather boyish charm to him when he smiles.  So different from the hardened scowl that seems to rest naturally on his face when he’s not putting on the act.  Another person might be unsettled with how easily he switches between the two, but in my line of work, it’s just another day at the office to see a mask put on.

 

A batarian elbows his way beside him at the checkout counter, not sparing him a second glance.  But the human?  He backs off from the counter and the youthful look is immediately taken over by wariness.  Wariness poisoned by past encounters, if I had to guess.  Xenophobia is alive and well, no matter what our illustrious Council likes to say.

 

The human nods at the shopkeeper and moves off, liquid grace as he joins the throng.  An elcor cuts off my view of him and then he’s gone.  Lost in the crowd.  My curiosity in the tall human creeps upwards and I find myself hoping he’ll show up again.

 

~***~

 

I perch in my usual nook of the nightclub.  Gomorrah.  The owner must have had an appreciation for human history.  Or they just liked the sound of the word.  There’s no equivalent in asari speech; universal translators really are the great equalizers of the galaxy.  They make it so you can connect with anyone of any species at any time, practically.  I _live_ for these connections...want to make one soon.  The urge is rising, like an itch in my bones.  I sip my drink and scan the crowd, looking for prospects that catch my eye.  The crowd is the usual fare, mostly asari with a healthy mix of turian and salarian, lesser amounts of batarians and humans.  

 

The bartender meets my eyes across the room and a hard stare convinces her to keep her eyes moving.  Too bad she’s working; that’s the most interesting thing anybody’s done so far tonight.  Keen observation skills always color me intrigued.  I enjoy listening to what they pick up and their analysis of it.  Silly, really...I like to know what people think of me.  How they perceive me.

 

The urge is growing the less of my drink remains.  I can stay it for the moment by concentrating on the music, bass throbbing and pulsing through me.  There’s a maiden on the dance floor moving to the beat, body flowing and undulating with it.  Her eyes flash a brilliant green, indigo skin reflecting the dance floor lights in beautiful patterns.  She might do.  I’ll need to watch a little longer.  See if she’s just as interesting in a day or so.  I need to be cautious, take my time.  When I give in to it, I want it to be worth it.  

 

I sit up, even more interested.  She dances over to the bar and runs her hands lightly over one of the patron’s backs.  He turns and looks at her, boyish charm in place with the grin.  It’s the tall human.  Most intriguing.  He keeps showing up.  If he keeps at it, it’ll become a coincidence.  I don't believe in coincidences. The maiden wraps an arm around his shoulders and sits in his lap, caressing his cheek with a graceful hand.  His smile takes on a heated appearance before their lips meet.  I lean forward and bite my own lower lip; I’m curious to see what happens next.

 

She slides her fingers over his buzzed scalp, deepening the kiss.  He doesn’t make any move to break away; I scoff to myself.  Typical human.  Doesn’t like batarians, but asari?  Perfectly acceptable.  Anthropocentric is a kind word to describe it.  As long as there are breasts to fondle and an ass to squeeze, most human males seem to accept just about anything.  I’m neutral on the matter.

 

That’s not true.  I’ve used that little trick to my advantage several times over the past few years.  A quick fix.  I exhale slowly and take another long drink.  The tall human breaks the kiss and nips at her lower lip, then whispers something to her.  She giggles and leans into it, bracing herself against his chest and grasping his bicep to steady herself.  I want to roll my eyes; she’s laying it on thick.  Doesn’t surprise me he’s buying it, though.  I heard a salarian nurse tell a joke once, when I was in a free clinic on a different spaceport:

 

_“Human males, cosmic joke.  Two heads, two minds, only enough blood to run one at a time.”_

 

I sit up straight; things just became fascinating.  She had run her hands down his torso and grabbed his rear, but the change in him is immediate.  The human is still smiling, but it’s almost feral.  His teeth are bared more than anything.  The maiden looks agitated...his hand is grasping her wrist and she’s annoyed as she tries to pull it away.  He shakes his head and holds fast.  She tugs again and flares her biotics.  It must not have been part of her plan when he responds with a flash of blue himself, alerting those around that he is biotic himself.  An anomaly for a human.

 

Most curious _indeed_.

 

He forces her hand over the bar top and gives it a little shake, any semblance of good humor gone at this point.  Another prompt from him and she opens her fist, dropping his wallet.  The human picks it up, taps it to her nose with a nod, then tucks it back into his pocket and releases her wrist.  The bartender signals security and she is escorted out.  Tough luck for her.

 

I finish my drink with a flick of my wrist and start to gather my things. Much as I want to stay and watch, I have a sneaking suspicion I will have a long day tomorrow.

 

~***~

 

The crime scene is bleak, spectators on the other side of the police line trying to glimpse the body.  They’re like a flight of rakk, watching and waiting for any scraps thrown their way.  I ignore them the best I can as I fix my gloves and squat, rolling the body over.

 

Poor girl.

 

Her brilliant green eyes are dull, indigo skin ashy.  Such a shame beauty fades so quickly.  They had looked so much prettier under the lights at the club last night.

 

“Is it… _ours_ …?  Detective?” a young officer asks me in hushed tones. I glance up at her.  Her eyes are a little too wide, breath a little too shallow.  Officer Lineah, I think her name is.  She hasn’t been on the force long.  

 

“So it would seem,” I mutter.  I point at those dull eyes with my little finger, careful not to touch.  “Look...hemorrhaging.  You don’t see blood coming out of the corner of the eyes like that without some massive bleeding internally.  Telltale sign, alright.  Also note the lack of marks on the rest of the body.   No bruising, no ligature marks...no sign of a struggle, either.  Full necropsy and toxicology report should confirm the suspicions.  I’d bet my salary it’s our killer.  I’m done here; let’s bag her up.”

 

She nods, swallowing hard before going to find the medics.  I sit back on my heels and peel my gloves off after placing the sheet back over her.  The asari maiden never knew what hit her.  And the pattern was off.  It was earlier than it was supposed have been, according to the MO profile.  Keeping everyone on their toes, it looks like.  Good.  They need a challenge.

 

“Show’s over, folks, move it along!  Let’s go!” the young officer calls, flapping her delicate blue hands at them.  They disperse, mumbling amongst themselves, all except for one.  I almost miss him.  The tall human is there, slouching against a wall, eyes hidden behind solar shields.   _Sunglasses_ , I think the humans call them.  He straightens up and removes them, catching my eye before giving me a half-grin and walking off.

 

 _Most_ intriguing.   

 

~***~

 

Over the next week, I seem to develop a shadow.  The tall human keeps appearing in the background of wherever I happen to be, never looking at me or even acknowledging my presence, just... _there_.  Eating lunch and reading a datapad a few tables away from mine while I do the same, chatting with the shopkeepers in the markets while I canvas for clues.  Leaning against walls and watching as we work the crime scene.  He holds a lit cigarette sometimes, but I never see him take a drag.

 

Even more annoying still, he’s at the nightclub I’m at: never approaching, never staring, just... _there_.  I see him pass perfunctory glances over the drunken masses, sharp gaze never staying on anybody for more than a second or two.  Practiced gaze of a predator.  

 

He sees me looking at him and turns to face me, full on.  One arm is leaning on the bar, the other loose by his side.  Ready for anything.  I blink slowly at him and duck my head a bit with a shy smile.  Demur.  An invitation.  He does that half-grin again and bites his lower lip, but then turns back to the bar.

 

Unexpected of him.

 

I keep watching, unsure of what to do.  I don’t think I’ve ever been snubbed quite like that in a good long while.  At least 60 years or so.  Give or take, anyway.  After fifteen minutes, my curiosity gets the better of me.  I vacate my dark little piece of the hell I rule and slide onto the stool next to him, never taking my eyes off him.  He doesn’t look at me, but he smiles.  Even more unexpected, he shoves a drink at me.

 

“Come here often?” he quips around a sip of his beer.

 

“Why are you following me.”  I make it a statement, not a question.

 

“I’m _not_ following you, you just happen to be where I happen to want to be, too.  Happy circumstances, no?”  

 

This time he looks at me.  Those eyes are startling in how blue they are.  Sharp.  Clear.  That boyish charm is thick and he knows it.  He bites his lower lip again and releases it slowly before continuing to speak.

 

“Y’know, most people say ‘thank you’ for having a drink bought for them.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” he laughs.  I allow myself a small chuckle and look at the drink he pushed in front of me: top shelf.  Equally surprising; I didn’t think his credits would stretch that far.  Young humans with no personal effects rarely have that much going for them.

 

“So.  How is it you just _happen_ to be where _I_ just happen to be constantly, now?”  I lean against the bar and cock my head to the side, biting my own lower lip.  Mimicking human body language tends to put them at ease.  He turns towards me, tiny smile still playing about his full lips.

 

“I think we’re after the same thing,” he said nonchalantly.  “My boss has certain interests.  And you seem to be interested in them, too.”

 

...goddess.  That was bold.  I appreciate how direct he is.  

 

“And what would that be, exactly?” I ask softly, running my finger along the rim of my drink.  He watches the motion, then directs that steely gaze back to my eyes.  

 

“You tell me.  He didn’t give me specifics about anything, just that I needed to beat the street and find out what I can.”

 

“That seems like he’s setting you up to fail.”

 

He laughs at that and takes a swig from his beer.

 

“Certainly sounds like it, don’t it.  He plays things close to the chest, but he knows his end goal and that’s the important thing.  I don’t need to know everything, I just need to get him raw data.  It’s his job to put it together.”

 

Interesting.  That could mean just about anything.

 

“I see.  Sounds familiar…”  I cautiously tease, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.  He smirks again and extends a hand.  

 

“Mark Shepherd.  Nice to meetcha.”

 

I mimic him again and put my hand out.  He grasps it firmly but gently, skin warm and dry, and pumps it up and down a few times.  The contrast between the milky pale of his skin and the dusky blue of mine is pleasant. I match the strength of his grip and the smirk widens to a grin.

 

“Maliana.  Pleasure’s all mine.”

 

“Nice handshake. You been practicing?”  

 

He breaks the so-called ‘handshake’ and leans his elbow on the bar.  I let the corners of my mouth lift in a coy grin behind my drink before taking a sip.

 

“Not particularly.  I’m not as well versed in dealing with humans as some of the others in my race are.  But one takes their social cues from the other party involved.  Yes?”

 

“Yeah.  Sound advice.  I’ve never gotten into trouble by doing that.  Gotten into plenty by _not,_ though, that’s for damn sure.”

 

My grin widens.  I slide my fingertips up his bare forearm, playing with the fine downy fuzz on his pale skin.  So different a texture than mine...but asari don’t have hair or fur like humans do.

 

“Trouble, hmm?  What do you say we get out of here and go find some?”

 

The human tips his head back and laughs, full-bellied and bright.  It’s a good sound.

 

“Sorry, but I’m spoken for.”  He jerks his head towards a turian leaning on the wall.  Male, Taetrus colony markings and dark skin.  I fight not to show my surprise; he doesn’t seem like the type.  Not to say that I’m an expert on human sexuality, but I wouldn’t have pinned him for enjoying the company of other males in that regard.  The others I’ve met who fit his archetype seemed to concentrate heavily on finding females.

 

“I see…”  I take my hand back and look in my glass.  The lights are making interesting shadows in the ice cubes in relation to the alcohol.  

 

“Not that you aren’t worth the attention,” he says quickly, leaning both elbows on the bar this time and wrapping his hands around his beer bottle.  “You are.”

 

“A placating fiction?  Please,” I scoff, “I don’t need your validation.  I just find you...interesting.  I’d like to get to know you regardless of the type of activity.”

 

“Wasn’t lying.  There’s something a little different about you.  You tend to stand out from the crowd.  It’s a good thing.”

 

I stare at him as he glances over his shoulder at the turian again with another sip of beer.  I’m not sure how I feel about that, exactly.  Staying out of sight is a specialty of mine, something I take pride in.  Am I losing my touch?  I don’t think I am; I’m too careful.

 

The turian finishes talking to his compatriots and starts to make his way towards us, amber eyes beady when they meet mine.  He slides a gloved claw around the human’s waist and tugs him towards him, much to both Shepherd’s and my amusement.  I lift an uninterested hand towards him, letting him know I’m not trying to take what he claims.

 

“It was nice to meet you, Maliana.  See you around.  Put your next drink on my tab, too.”

 

They leave side by side, shoulders and carapace bumping occasionally.  I finish my drink and give them a minute to lead, then sneak out behind them.  They had made it about as far as the street intersection before stopping, turian pressing him face first against a wall, claws grasping at his hips.  He takes a shuddery breath and leans back into the turian’s hands, then flips himself around, pulling their foreheads together.  If it’s a show he’s putting on just for me, it’s convincing.  I return inside and order another drink.

 

Most unexpected human I’ve ever met.

 

~***~

 

I see the human a few days later sitting in a corner of a cafe, sipping something hot and studying his omni-tool for all his worth, a little furrow in his brow.  He’s hard to pin down; the expression is one of someone who has seen too much in the galaxy, lived too hard in too many rough places.  And yet his face is unmarred by scars traditional to a harsh life.  The air around him tastes youthful.  Untested, almost.  Like he’s still growing into his potential.  I shake my head at myself.  Humans are odd at how utterly _young_ they can seem, yet be older beyond their years at the same time.

 

“If you thought any harder, I’d be able to smell the brain cells burning,” I say, slipping into the chair opposite him and folding my hands neatly on the table.  He doesn’t look up and grunts noncommittally.  How very odd.  I’m not sure if I appreciate the nonchalance or not.  “You know, most people tend to at least look their dining companion in the eye when they’re greeted.”

 

He snorts at that and closes his omni-tool, orange glow dissipating under his fingers as he finally meets my eyes.

 

“Dining companion, huh?  Alright then.  I see what you did there.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” I tease, allowing a small smile.  He returns it and slides the ordering kiosk towards me.

 

“Sure.  And I’m going to be the first human Spectre.  Get what you want.”

 

I study the menu, scrolling through the listings.  Nothing really is piquing my interest quite like he is, though. The urge stirs, like a leviathan in the deep.  I ignore it.

 

“Most people wouldn’t buy perfect strangers food and drink immediately, either.  They usually wait until they know them a bit better.”  The easy smile on my face fades as I catch his gaze and hold it.  The amused grin on his stays firmly in place.

 

“I’m not like most people.  Or so I’ve been told.”  He takes a sip.  “It’s a bad habit.”

 

“Mm.  I don’t mind bad habits.”

 

“I didn’t think you did.  Otherwise what would we base our friendship on?”

 

This time he mimics _me_ , hands folding in front of him on the table and tilting his head to the side.

 

“Are we friends?” I ask delicately, leaning back in my chair.  

 

“Are we not?”

 

He is positively maddening.  

 

“You’re enjoying this…”

 

“Are _you_ not?” His grin widens as I purse my lips.  “Guilty as charged.”  He drops the act and leans back in his chair, too, chuckling.  “Not often I can talk to someone like this.  It’s refreshing.”

 

“I feel the same way.”

 

He toys with his drink, studying me.  I lift my chin in defiance, welcoming the scrutiny.  

 

“I’m glad.  How’s the investigation going?”

 

“Classified.”

 

“I’m not asking for any details.  Just if it’s going well or not.  Simple question.”

 

I pause, still staring into his clear blue eyes.  The last hints of amusement fade away, never having reached his eyes in the first place.

 

“It’s...going.”

 

He scoffs and takes another drink.  “That’s an evasive answer if there ever was one.  That good, huh?”

 

“Again.  Classified.”

 

“You’re no fun.”

 

I exhale slowly, staring at him as he leans back in his seat and props his hands behind his head.

 

“I would say I’m actually a lot of fun.  You just have to earn it first.”

 

He laughs outright at that.  

 

“Fair enough.  Will I get a medal or something?”

 

“Something.”

 

“Pff.  Alright, then, self-described stranger in the night.  Tell me a bit about yourself.”

 

He shifts in his seat, leaning forward on his elbows.

 

“What do you wish to know?” I ask.  I’m genuinely curious, it’s...not a question I usually get.  It makes me feel nostalgic. Nobody has seriously asked that in a century at least.  The human shrugs.

 

“You said your name was Maliana, right?” I nod.  “Well, do you have a last name?  Or is it just a single name, like Sha’ira the Consort?”

 

That takes me by surprise a bit.   

 

“I’ve found most humans can’t pronounce it,” I reply and punch in a drink order.  He still is watching me.  Studying me.  “So I don’t usually bother giving it to them.  Maliana works perfectly well.”

 

He nods, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

 

“I’d be willing to give it a go if you don’t mind me horribly mincing it.  But I also completely understand if you don’t.  Not a big deal.”

 

My turn to nod.

 

“What kind of a last name is Shepherd?”

 

He cocks his head to the side.

 

“I dunno.  What kind of a question is that?  My name is my name.  It has some cultural origin, I’m sure.  Nothing I’m holding near and dear to my heart, if that’s what you’re after.  Has a few different spellings and they’re all interchangeable, if you get down to it.”

 

I shake my head and lean back in my own seat.  

 

“Not sure myself.  I just...I’ve never really come across it before.  I guess I don’t really interact with humans enough for it to be something I notice.”

 

“Yeah, I get that with asari, too.  I’ve no problems talking to them or being around them, but I never get that close and personal.  It’s a shame, really.  Not enough time for me to socialize outside my work, though.  Ah well.”

 

He sighs and slides his cup to the side.  I study his profile.  It really is quite striking.  Other female humans passing by have been slowing down, some doing double-takes.  He seems unaware of it.  I suppose that only adds to the charm.  Those piercing blue eyes fix themselves on mine once more.

 

“So how long have you been a detective?”

 

Of course he would ask about that.  Luckily my drink is delivered then and I can delay by taking a sip.  It’s much too hot.  He’s content to let the silence stand, though...such an odd human.  Most tend to want to fill the quiet with meaningless chatter.  I feel the urge again, like a dark stain in back of my mind.

 

“Years.”

 

That seems a safe answer.

 

“No shit,” he snorts, “I was betting this wasn’t your first rodeo.  If I had to guess, I’d say you were between your maiden and matron stages.  Naw, I’m talkin’ how many decades.”

 

He’s keen.  I’ll have to remember to keep that in mind; he’s very disarming to talk with one on one.  

 

“Decades, then…”  I give him a coy smile to soften the evasive answer.  “I’m actually on loan from Thessia.  Armali, to be exact…”

 

That appears to satisfy him for the moment.

 

“So now that you’ve pinned a rough estimate for my age, I’m going to return the favor.  I’d say…”  I let my eyes travel up and down his body, slow and deliberate.  He grins.  “Mid twenties, given your demeanor.”

 

“Close.  Try early twenties instead.”

 

“My apologies; your species has a wide variety of what ages look like.  It all tends to blend together after awhile.”

 

“It’s fine.  Doesn’t bother me in the slightest...so it’s more than just a random killing spree?  Thought so.”

 

... _goddess_.  I keep my face neutral while quelling the shock of panic in my gut.  I can’t help but wonder how much he knows.  There’s a spark in his eyes at my silence.

 

“You’re...very astute,” I murmur, tracing a fingertip along the rim of my drink.  It’s still too hot to sip again from, anyway.  He follows the motion, like he did in the bar a few nights ago.

 

“So I’ve been told.”

 

His words have a slight bite to them.  Curiouser and curiouser.

 

“You’re not involved in the investigation officially.  So what are you really here for, Shepherd?”

 

He grins at that.

 

“I already told you.  I’m here for what you are.  Information.  Now I know we’re friends.  You actually used my name.”

 

“I don’t have friends.”

 

“Says you,” he snorts.  “I find it very hard to believe you don’t have anybody to turn to.”

 

I lock my gaze with his, cobalt ice set in that angular face.  His lips are pursed, hands rubbing together.  Anticipatory, though I don’t see what for.

 

“....I have learned early on not to get too close with anybody.  Otherwise, I get hurt.  My life works for me the way it is.”

 

A sharp nod and smirk of satisfaction was the response as he sat back in his seat.  

 

“See, that right there.  I knew I liked you.  We have that in common, it seems.”

 

“Oh?”  I took a cautious sip of my drink.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Care to tell me about it?”

 

“I will if you do,” he said behind another chuckle.

 

“I’m good, thanks.”

 

“That’s what I figured.  Though if I had to take a stab at it, I would guess ‘family’ has a lot to do with it.”

 

... _goddess_.  I force myself to laugh and shake my head, glancing away for a moment before looking back at him.  

 

“I guess certain themes go with certain trends.”

 

“That means I got it, huh?”

 

I say nothing and take a sip.

 

“Like I said.  We have that in common.  Gotta love them.”

 

I allow a bit of wistfulness to show as I slide the drink back on the table and lean on my elbows.

 

“The ties that bind, right?  No matter what, you always are connected to your family.”

 

“Yeah.  Hurts.”

 

“What does?”  My hand drops close to his on the table, palm up and fingers loose.  He looks at our hands, almost touching and answers quietly.

 

“Not being able to go back.”

 

That surprises me.  He stands up and I catch his arm.  His eyes are trained on my hand, fingers lightly gripping his muscular forearm.

 

“...exactly,” I whisper, “And you feel the loss, every day.  It eats away at you, until you decide you can’t take it anymore, and you can’t feel anything else.  Eventually you stop feeling anything at all.  You’re numb.”

 

He glances at my face as he pulls his arm away from my touch and swipes his credit chit, leaving the receipt on the table.

 

“Indeed.  Seems your story is mine, Maliana.  Tab’s open for food if you want.  I’ll be seeing ya.”

 

I watch his form walk away in the crowd.  I blink, and he’s gone.

 

~***~

 

“Excuse me, Detective.  Do you have a moment?”

 

I barely glance up from my terminal, reading the toxicology and necropsy reports from the latest victim. Nothing out of the ordinary to be found.  Evidence of alcohol in her system, but not enough to impair her judgement.  No drugs or illicit substances.  Nervous system fried, cerebral hemorrhaging.  I sigh and lean back in my chair.  Poor girl...nasty way to go.  The new-ish officer coughs quietly, shuffling her feet and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

 

“What can I do for you, Officer Lineah?”

 

“Records department was curious if you were done with the file yet; Detective Nila was hoping to get a look at it.  And did you hear?”

 

I blink at her, waiting for her to continue.

 

“We might have been able to pull a partial print off the deceased’s ID.  It doesn’t match hers.”

 

My heartbeat raises along with my brow.

 

“...why wasn’t I informed of this earlier?”

 

“Well...it wasn’t _found_ until recently.  Like, the past 36 hours.  I mean, it’s big news.  Right?  Maybe our killer slipped up.”

 

“I am to be told of any new developments _as they occur_.  That was the agreement this department made when I came onto this investigation!  If I’m going to catch this bitch, I need everything at my disposal.  Do you know how long I’ve been working this case?”

 

I can’t help but be short with her.  She tucks her chin and swallows hard, chagrined.  Goddess...I need to see the print.  If that little piece is the thing that busts this wide open...my gut clenches.  

 

“No, ma’am…” she whispers.

 

“Probably before you were even a thought in your parents’ eyes,” I snort.  “There’s even a justicar working this case.”

 

“...why isn’t she here, then?” Lineah asks meekly.  I scoff.  It’s a good question.

 

“She’s tracking down other leads, no doubt.  Justicars aren't known for leaving asari space willingly.  And it’s not for certain it’s the same killer.  Though it’s looking more and more like it is.”

 

The young officer shuffles in place again, uncomfortable.  

 

“So...that file?  Records was asking for it back.”

 

I sigh and close down the terminal, gathering my things.  The urge ticks in the back of my head and I tamp it down.  It will need to be sated soon.  I’m on borrowed time.

 

“Almost done with it.  Don’t worry, I’ll return it,” I smile.  The file in question is in my bag to take home.  “Just need to comb through it a few more times and see if anything else pops out at me.”   

 

~***~

 

I’m almost disappointed that I haven’t seen him around the past few nights.  His presence was becoming almost a comfort.  My usual dark corner in Gomorrah gives the benefit of having a vantage point over the rest of the club.  I see the turian with Taetrus colony markings again, not exactly dejected, but he looks fairly glum.  I watch him drink at the bar, listless and wandering.  Like he’s a ship drifting on a tide and he’s lost his mooring at the dock.  Interesting.  I take it to mean Shepherd wasn’t looking for more than a night.  Just one night to lose himself in sensations.  We’re similar in that regard, he and I.  Or so it would seem.  

 

Nothing really catches my attention and I finish my drink.  The bartender nods at me as I slip out the door.  The night air has a slight chill to it that I appreciate; it makes me more aware of what’s touching my skin.  Silky cloth of my undergarments versus the smooth but heavy fabric of my clothes.  I hunch my shoulders against it, feeling the high, stiff collar scrape against the back of my head and I pause, glancing at the stars.  Such an understated beauty that is taken for granted.  Colder nights generally mean more stars can be seen.  I don’t know how long I lose myself to stargazing when I catch motion out of the corner of my eye and hear low, gruff voices.  A shadow slides down a sidestreet, clearly not wanting to be seen.

 

There’s no question.  I follow.

 

I keep to the shadows.  I can’t hear what’s being said just yet, though the voices are angry.  Care is being taken by both parties to keep it fairly quiet; they don’t want attention brought on themselves.  Too bad for them I find them anyway.  

 

“The fuck you doin’ here, huh?  You’re not supposed to come until I call for you.”

 

The taller of the two shadows shoves the other into the wall and gets in his face.  Humans, both of them, from the look and sound.  A rough laugh leaks out of the man against the wall.

 

“Just checking in.  Thought you might have gotten lost, Shepherd.”

 

Ah.

 

“I’m doing fine and dandy, thanks for asking, cupcake.  Why are you _really_ here?”

 

The shadow against the wall shoves him back and stands up.

 

“Boss man didn’t get a check-in on time.  He was concerned.”

 

“So he sent a fuckin’ babysitter?  Christ…” Shepherd mutters, shaking his head.  “Didn’t know it was that kind of mission.  You wanna check my diaper, too?  Careful, Randy.  I might _like_ it too much…”

 

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that, Shepherd, you haven’t earned the goddamn right.  ‘Ezno’ or nothing, huh?”

 

Shepherd scoffs and pats the other man on the cheek.

 

“Whatever you say.  You’re not on this one, _I_ am.  What gives?”

 

“Obviously he’s not happy with the way you’re running it.”

 

“ _Leck mich am Arsch[1]_.  I’m gettin’ it done.  I’m just doing it _my_ way.”

 

Ezno huffs a mirthless laugh.  Even more intriguing...I didn’t know Shepard spoke a Terran dialect.  It’s harsh on the ears.

 

“Sure you are.  You certainly got your way with that turian… _Real_ interesting way to get intel.  Find anything of worth when you were digging through his craw?”  He shakes his head.  “You should really stick with our own kind...the rest of the squad is uncomfortable with how ‘free’ you are with your... _affections_.  Y’know?”

 

The shorter man is shoved back into the wall, Shepherd’s nose barely a centimeter away from his.  

 

“How I choose to spend my spare time is none of your fuckin’ business,” he spits.

 

“You’re right.  It’s not,” Enzo growls back.  “But you’re not here for pleasure, you’re here to _work_.  Or have you forgotten that little fact?”

 

“I’ve forgotten nothing.  It’ll get done, don’t you worry.  I’m setting the groundwork.   _My_ way.”

 

“Ah, yes, that’s right.  He wanted someone ‘unconventional’.  Bet you feel pretty special, being tapped out of the lineup.”

 

“What...you jealous?  Just because this type of thing is your usual bag doesn’t mean nobody else can do it.”

 

“Pff.  Not hardly.  Only reason why is because they needed someone with stronger biotics than mine.  You spike higher than me.  That, and you’re a pretty face.”  He pats the taller man on the cheek, clearly trying to antagonize him.  Shepherd scoffs at that.   “Otherwise?  You’d be on your knees and lickin’ my boots instead of this little setup right here.”

 

It must have worked.  Shepherd pauses a moment, then drives his forehead into the other human’s face.  A muffled cry of pain is quickly stifled and blood drips out of the displaced nose; he must have broken it.  I suppress a gasp; he cups the back of Ezno’s neck and shoves his leg between his, wrists gathered in his other hand.  The other man grits his teeth and winces, clearly uncomfortable.  He’s not in any position to fight back.  I feel my heart rate increase a bit and wonder what’s going to happen next.  This is _not_ like with the turian...Shepherd draws his lips over the tip of his broken nose, almost sensual.

 

“Not the kind of licking I’m interested in, cupcake,” he murmurs, grip firm on his neck.  He nips at Ezno’s nose before lightly kissing it.  The other man struggles briefly and receives a firm knee in his groin for his troubles.  He groans, collapsing forward and Shepherd lets him, stepping back and looking at one of his hands disinterestedly.

 

“ _Fuck…you…_ ” he coughs, spitting blood on the street.  Shepherd scoffs again and quickly drives his elbow into Ezno’s shoulders.  My breath catches in my throat.  Something uncurls in my gut, languid and stretching.  It wants me to get closer.  I can smell the blood from here, coppery and almost sweet.  The other man is sprawled out on the ground in front of Shepherd now.  I give in to the urge and slither to another shadow.  I see his face a little better and it’s blank.  Like he’s reading a news article about budget cuts on the Citadel.

 

“See, if you asked me that in the first place, you probably would have gotten a lot farther.  Since you didn’t, and I’m not really in the mood for dick right now, thanks for asking, this is what we’re doing instead.  I’m ok with either scenario, really.”  Shepherd crouches down, head cocked to the side and chilling indifference on his face.  I can’t stop watching.  Enzo coughs again before giving a harsh groan.

 

“You’re a disgusting _freak_ , Shepherd, you know that?”  He struggles to get on all fours.

 

“Careful.  I might think you actually like me if you keep makin’ me blush like that.”

 

I can do without the editorial comments, but I get it.  It’s his way of relieving the pressure. I know the type, have seen it a million times.  If Shepherd wasn’t making the snappy comebacks, he would escalate the violence.  And I don’t think the broken man in front of him would survive the encounter if he did.  I push that thought away; can’t afford to think about it right now.

 

“You’re _lucky_ I’m the one you have to deal with right now…” Enzo wheezes.  He sways back and forth a bit on his hands and knees, blood dripping from his face to the street.  “No guarantees next time will be so friendly.”

 

“Friendly, huh?”  Shepherd nods to himself a moment, considering.  I startle as he gives a vicious kick to Ezno’s ribs, causing him to drop to the ground in a keening heap.  Sounds like he hit the solar plexus and paralyzed the diaphragm.  I admire his training...it’s brutal and effective in hand-to-hand. The thing in my gut whispers to me, wanting to go one on one with Shepherd and test ourselves.  See who would come out on top.  I ignore how excited the thought makes me. “Tell him if he really wants results, he shouldn’t send me any more ‘friends’.  I don’t play that well with others, in case he didn’t get the memo.”

 

He gives one more vicious kick for good measure and starts off down the street, whistling jauntily.

 

“Next time you’ll have to answer to him yourself, you fuckin’ asshat!  You hear me?” Ezno rasps after him.  Shepherd’s response is one I don’t understand personally, though I’ve observed it to be offensive to other humans: his middle finger is extended for a few seconds in the other man’s direction before he disappears down another side street.

 

I slip away before Ezno discovers me; I don’t believe he would appreciate knowing he had an audience.  The creature in my gut curls in on itself again as I make my way back home, curiosity satisfied for the moment.  It’s only a matter of time before it gets curious again.

 

~***~

 

I’m constantly looking for him now.  Every time I picture that night in the alley, my pulse throbs through my body and I have a hard time catching my breath.  That dark thread in my gut uncoils at the mere thought of him...he excites me in a way that few have over the years.  Intrinsically, I knew the threat of violence was there; there was no possible way it couldn’t be.  I was hedging a bet on ‘merc’; that seems the most likely at this point.

 

I sigh and complete the form that states I returned all the evidence and reports I had signed out.  The records attendant gives me a bland smile as she returns the materials to their spots.  I turn to leave and almost run headfirst into Officer Lineah.  

 

“Oh!  Excuse me, Detective, I’m so sorry!  I was just...I’ll be going.  Sorry.”

 

She blushes and pushes past me, going up to the attendant.

 

“Yeah, hi, it’s me again...could I please have that log I was asking about earlier?  Thanks…”

 

I narrow my eyes as I continue down the hallway and out to the bullpen in the station.  Officer Lineah was starting to become a problem.  I often catch her staring at me at odd moments, lips pursed.  She’s an unwanted shadow.  Lately it occurs to me that she has been a step behind me, a surreptitious wraith, that shows up around the station wherever I happen to be. Similar to Shepherd, but not nearly as amusing.  Or appealing, truth be told.

 

Luck is with me when I slip out of the station and make my way to the crime scene.  Lineah is preoccupied with whatever she’s up to at the moment and I breathe a sigh of relief.  Freedom.  My other shadow is missing, though.  

 

Shepherd.

 

A ripple goes through my gut; the mental image of his lips brushing against Ezno’s broken, bleeding nose and how easily he dropped the other man to the ground clouds my thoughts and distracts me from looking for clues.  No matter.  I’m doing a final sweep before releasing it back to its intended purpose.  It’s already been combed over and picked clean of anything useful, like a carcass thrown to a pack of scavengers.  Another wistful shudder goes through me with unbidden thoughts: what if _I_ had been the one underneath those large, strong hands?  Those full lips, tasting the tang of blood?  

 

I feel the urge again, spreading like a drop of ink in a cup of water...darkness curling and dancing through me, spreading until there’s nothing pure left and all that remains is the need to feel it again.  Feel _alive_.  I swallow hard and make up my mind to go out.

 

Perhaps I’ll run into him later tonight.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Glossary_ :
> 
> [1] 'Lick my ass'. Basically 'fuck off' in German


	2. Hello, Darkness, My Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next question is the 'what'

_**The Hunted**_ , by potionsmaster

 

Rating: M for game level violence, death, sex, drugs, mind games, the whole nine

 

 **Chapter 2:**   _Hello, Darkness, My Old Friend_

 

~***~

 

The bass is thumping in Gomorrah.  My pulse matches it, throbbing and rhythmic.  I alternately sip and swirl my drink, waiting.  Hoping, even.  My breath quickens when I see a familiar form approach the bar and lean on it.  He just needs to signal at the bartender for his usual drink now; he’s become a regular over the past few weeks.

 

_Shepherd…_

 

I will him to turn and look at me.  He receives his drink and slugs it back, shaking his head at the burn and placing the glass upside down on the polished surface of the bar.  I don’t think I’ve seen him ever do that before...perhaps whoever Ezno was talking about was putting pressure on him. I sympathize.  My own job is becoming a bit problematic.  He nods at the barkeep again and another drink gets shoved at him.  A sip is only taken this time and he stands up, craning his head around.  The turian isn’t around tonight.  Wonder what he’s looking for.  Or who.  

 

I surprise myself and leave my spot, venturing out across the dance floor and over to the bar.  I can’t recall ever doing it for anybody in recent memory, yet here I am, second time in about as many weeks, exposing myself to some... _human_.  I have the element of surprise on my side, thank the goddess.  He’s not looking my way and I slink onto the stool next to him, sliding my arm against his.  So warm…  He whips around, startled and I smile coyly at him.  Point to me.

 

A jolt runs through me when our gazes lock.

 

“Hey.  Haven’t seen you in a bit,” he says, recovering well.  He doesn’t try to move his arm.  The coil in my stomach tightens in excitement.   _Patience_ , I soothe it.   _Not yet_.  I blink slowly and allow my smirk to spread.

 

“It’s been...busy.  I’ve got a booth over here in the shadows...why don’t you come sit with me?”

 

He bites his lower lip briefly before taking another sip.

 

“Sure.  Why not.”

 

I turn and walk back to my dark little haven in the corner, trusting him to follow me.  I suppress the triumphant thrill that shivers through me when we settle in the booth.  He throws an elbow over the back of the seat, practiced nonchalance again.  I see the slight tension, though.  His eyes sweep the club before settling back on mine.  His forehead has a slight bruise to it if I look closely enough.

 

“Good view, huh?” I ask him after a moment, more to break the silence than anything.  I can’t help my eagerness.  He focuses on me, eyes flashing in the darkness.

 

“Yeah.  I like it.”

 

“Best part is no windows, no doors at our backs.  Clean sight lines everywhere.”

 

His lower lip finds its way between his teeth a moment again before he chuckles and lifts his drink for a sip.

 

“Indeed.  Best place for paranoid people like us.  So what’ve you been up to?”

 

“Work.  Here.  The usual…”

 

I trace my finger down the side of my throat and along my collarbone, glancing over that shoulder at the dancers on the floor.  He tracks the motion and shifts in his seat.  Another flash of triumph spreads under my skin: I have his attention.  Good.

 

“How about yourself?” I continue as I tilt my head to the side, fingering the neckline of my tunic.  His jaw clenches briefly and he takes a sip, meeting my eyes.  There’s... _something_ behind them.  Heat.  Desire?  Caution, perhaps.

 

“Same,” he teases, “SSDD, right?”

 

It’s a term I’m not familiar with and I allow a little furrow to develop in my brow, pouting my lips.  I see his gaze flick to my lips then back to my eyes again, pupils dilating a bit.  Perfect.  I ask the question without words, shrugging, and he chuckles.

 

“ _Same Shit, Different Day_.  The usual, as you said.”  

 

He takes another sip and places the tumbler on the table, ice cubes clinking slightly.  I slide closer to him in the booth.

 

“Must be a ‘human’ expression,” I smile, “I haven’t heard of it before.  I like it, though.  It fits…”

 

It strikes me how very tall he is again when he half-turns towards me and he looms, blocking out some of the glittering lights in the club.  He’s used to looking down at people and makes no qualms about it, using his height to his advantage.  It’s surely meant to intimidate, or at least let the position of power be known.  Even if the threat is superficial, my heart thumps in my chest for a few brief moments.  It’s exciting to entertain the thought I might not be the one to come out on top so easily.  The creature in my gut purrs at the idea, wanting the challenge.  I take a chance and brush my fingertips over his forehead, tracing the slight lines.

 

“Though I don’t remember this being here the last time I saw you,” I remark, outlining a shape.  He inhales sharply. “That doesn’t seem ‘usual’ to me…”

 

He turns away again and hunches his shoulders, leaning his elbows on the tabletop.  

 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Detective…”

 

“Mm.  I’ll just bet you don’t.  The bruising was so slight, I really had to study you to find it.  Especially in this light.”

 

He gives me a sidelong glance, considering.  My lips curl into a knowing smile.  

 

“Would one have happened to have been in an instance where such a bruise occurred, I’m sure it would have been brought to the attention of the proper authorities.  But alas, I know of no such instance.”

 

Cheeky of him.  I like it.  

 

“Would one have happened to have _seen_ the circumstance in which such a bruise occurred, perhaps it would have been decided to keep it from the attention of the proper authorities.  But alas…” My grin widens and I let my hand brush against his arm as I fold them on the table in front of me. “...I know of no such instance.”

 

He snorts in amusement, still eyeing me from the side.  The set of his shoulders remains tense.  It’s... _interesting_ , the reservation he has around me.  I draw back a bit, leaning into the cushion on the booth.

 

“That so.”

 

“Mm.”

 

“Too bad this is all hypothetical, then.  Otherwise that would have been reassuring.”

 

“Wouldn’t it, though…”  I roll my neck and shoulders before focusing back on him.  Perhaps if I show myself relaxing, he will start to.  Human body language at its finest.  At least some of the training received for being on the force was useful.  Triumph stabs through me: he sighs lightly and shifts back in his seat again.  “It would also be reassuring if I could just make this case go away.  Wrap up neatly and be put in a box, then bury it in Records.”

 

Small talk also helps.  I half-wished I had my supply of Hallex on me...wonder if he’d partake if I did.  A question for another time, perhaps.  He moistens his lips and takes a sip, grinning.

 

“It gettin’ to you?”

 

“Maybe a bit,” I reply softly, swirling my own drink.  “It’s been a long one.”

 

“Yeah, I hear ya.  Anything in particular?”

 

I give him an incredulous look.   _Goddess_ , he’s bold.  His elbow is draped over the back of the booth again, half-turned towards me and head tipped to the side.  Receptive.  I stay the flutter in my veins.

 

“SSDD, I believe you said.”

 

“Heh.  That I did.  However, that only pertains to when nothing has changed.  You seem more... _something_...tonight.” His hand waves through the air aimlessly while he talks.  “More animated?  Agitated?  Not quite sure.”

 

Ah.  He’s noticed the change.  The creature in my gut purrs again, liking the recognition.

 

“I think I’m feeling the pressure,” I admit, looking over the dance floor again.  Beautiful bodies are writhing to the music, lights sparkling and flashing around them.  He follows my gaze and sighs deeply.

 

“You and me both,” he murmurs before asking again. “Anything in particular?”

 

My turn to sigh. He’s as persistent as he is cheeky.

 

“There’s...a new officer.  She’s underfoot.  Maddeningly so.   _Youth…_ ” I shake my head in exasperation and take a slow drink.  “To the point I can barely turn around without tripping over her.”

 

“Sounds aggravating.  Is she just enthusiastic?  Or…”

 

“Or...what, exactly?” I suppress an exasperated chuckle.  Of all the annoying quirks humans have, that one takes the top of the list for me.  Asking a question, but not really.  The thought just trails off into nothing.   The other part of the question is supposed to be inferred, which is a clever way of trying to ‘lead the witness’.  He grins, boyish charm starting to leak through.  I’m less than amused at it than he.

 

“I dunno,” he shrugs amicably, “Or that ‘young’.  It’s been my experience that the newbies get over-eager to prove themselves and then all they wind up _really_ doing is making a nuisance of themselves by getting in the way.”

 

I glance at him from the corner of my eye.  

 

“Do you usually get stuck with new people?”

 

“Heh.  Naw.  I’m just saying, though.  We’ve all been new at something before.  Some of us more recently than others.  That’s all.”

 

“How magnanimous of you,” I murmur.  “This one is...quite enthusiastic in her dedication to chasing down trivial matters.”

 

“Really?  I would think that would only help you out.  Frees you up to do something else.”

 

I sigh again and wipe invisible crumbs off the seat between us.

 

“It should, but the problem is she’s making more of minor issues than she needs to.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Such as, ‘classified, lose my job if I told you details’.”  I’m lying; I can tell some nonessential details to witnesses and potential perps, see if I can shake loose any clues or statements they might make that aren’t public knowledge.  I drape my own elbow over the back of the booth, lightly tracing my fingertips over my forehead.  The featherlight touch raises bumps on my arm and sooths me all at once.  

 

“C’mon, now...who’m I gonna talk to?” he chuckles, rubbing his own temple with his hand for a brief moment.  I meet his gaze, dropping my hand and letting our arms touch.  So soft and warm…

 

“Well, it _has_ been pointed out that you were the last person to have an altercation with the last victim.  You could have been enraged at the fact she tried to pickpocket you and tracked her down outside.  It’s also known you are biotic from that little incident.  And since there were no discernible exterior wounds or damage, that pushes biotics riiiiight up in the top three possible ways she was killed.”  I walk my fingers up his forearm to punctuate my last statement.

 

He narrows his eyes momentarily at that and his shoulders tense again.

 

“You can’t fuckin’ be serious…” he mutters, tongue flicking out to moisten his lips in exasperation.  Not quite a usual response a person has when being told they could be a suspect in a murder case.  He scoffs and shakes his head.  “Please.  We both know I’m a red herring.  This little problem of yours has been going on for years before I was even aware of it.”

 

“Oh, has it?”

 

He scowls at my amused lilt. I don’t know what a colorful aquatic creature from Earth has to do with anything, but I ignore it.  

 

“You’re right, Shepherd…” I laugh, tracing my fingers down his forearm again and through the downy fuzz on his skin.  “If you had been around from the start of this whole thing here, it would have been much more suspicious.  For now, you’re a distraction to the team, but one we had to rule out anyway.  Though if that print had been yours, it would have been much harder to dissuade the team you had nothing to do with it but bad luck.”

 

“Print?”

 

“Yeah...we were able to lift one, but unfortunately it was only a partial.  And it was gathered improperly, or so I discovered.  Inadmissible as evidence.”  What a shame it was smudged because the graphite dust smeared on the adhesive.  And what a frustration that as soon as I had notated the log and put it back in the records department, I got a notification on my omni-tool that someone had immediately taken it out and perused it again.  Further inspection proved it was Lineah.  Nosy little bitch.  I’ll have to keep an eye on her, it seems.

 

Who knows if she discovered the page missing from the file I turned in the other day.

 

“That’s a _damn_ shame,” he says, picking up his drink.  Smells like rum, from what I can tell.  “You guys getting close to pinning down the suspect?”

 

“Well...yes and no,” I reply, taking a sip of my own.  “The pattern is off a bit.  Something must’ve changed for them.  Maybe they’ll make a mistake.”

 

I severely doubt it, knowing what I know.

 

“How so?”  

 

“The last victim, the maiden?  She only partially fit the usual vic profile.  Petty thieves don’t usually pique their interest, but this one...it’s almost like it was a snap decision.  Last minute.”

 

“Huh…” he turns towards me in the booth, resting his head on the arm over the seat back, drink still in his other hand.  Those blue eyes pierce mine.  “Wonder what made her stand out, then.”

 

I swallow hard, suppressing a shiver.  The creature in me is pacing again.

 

“I would imagine she did something that made her interesting to them,” I whisper.  “Like failing to con her ‘mark’ in a nightclub.”

 

He gives a half-grin.

 

“Nice pun.  Think that’s really what it was?”

 

I place my drink on the table and slide closer to him, leaning my own head against the booth.

 

“It’s as good a reason as any,” I hum. I can feel his body heat at this distance.  Biotics run hot and this human is no exception.  I pull his tumbler out of his hand and put it next to mine.  “Track someone like this long enough, you start to think like they do.”

 

He lifts his head at that.

 

“Must be a dark place to go.”

 

“It can be.  I’m not afraid of the dark, though.  I rather like it.”

 

“Same here.  It’s comfortable.”

 

His leg presses against mine under the table.  The urge washes over me in a tidal wave, sweeping the breath away from me and leaving me yearning.  I need to... _control_ it better, bide my time.  The creature in my stomach swipes at me, pressing me to act.  I blink at him, searching his face.  

 

I can’t help myself.  I move forward and close the distance between us, the urge insisting I touch his skin with mine.  He cups my cheek in one large hand, thumb tracing my cheekbone almost reverently.  I sigh in relief and lean into the kiss.  Those full lips are softer than I imagined they’d be.  His fingertips trail up and down the back of my neck, deceptively gentle as they dance along the base of my skull and tease the underside of my scalp crests.  The darkness in my gut rises in response, purring.

 

I want more.  

 

“Call me ‘Mirala’.  Just once...please?”  The words escape before I can stop them.  I haven’t used that name in centuries, but I find myself longing to hear it again.  Just once more...this human has the strange effect of making me feel almost _too_ at ease with him, like he’s known me since the beginning.  The danger of that notion adds a layer to the fever of touching him.

 

I can feel his pulse increase slightly.  He draws me closer and I shiver in his arms, brushing our lips together again.  He tastes of spiced rum, desire, and a hint of citrus, sweet and dark but with a burn.  I fight the urge I get to do more, go further.  I want to wrap myself up in him, feel his skin against mine...instead I settle for crawling in his lap and straddling him, the table hiding anything from prying eyes unless they were really checking for it.  I send a brief thought of gratitude to whoever designed the booth; it’s deep enough for me to move on him comfortably.

 

Goddess, but I can feel his eagerness growing with every heartbeat.  I roll myself against him, deepening the kiss.  It’s difficult not to give in.  He groans against my lips and grasps my arms, breaking away and resting his forehead against mine, breathless.

 

“I want you…” I murmur, rubbing the tips of our noses together.  My fingers slide through his shorn hair, the prickling sensation curiously soft but tickling all at once.  I roll my hips against his again, slow and deliberate.  He groans again, deep in his chest and rumbling.  I feel it vibrating against mine and it’s all I can do not to take him right there.  Goddess, I want to...the urge is clamoring in the back of my head, insisting on _more_ , more sensations, more skin, more _heat_...I struggle not to let my eyes go fully black.  I’m going to need to give in soon.  “...do you want me?”

 

He exhales sharply, eyes closed.  I feel him shudder and draw back a little.  The creature in my gut slashes at me again, the urge roaring its displeasure at him pulling away.  I cuddle closer and kiss my way from his cheek to the shell of his ear.

 

“Tell me you want me…” I whisper against it, lips brushing against his earlobe before I nibble on it.  The friction between us is electric; it’s a wonder our biotics haven’t sparked to life.  He goes still underneath me, panting shallowly.  I can feel the urge rising, like a sickness inside me...it wants me to force him to do what I say, tell me what I want to hear.  It takes everything I have to resist it.  I drag my fingers through his hair and lightly across his forehead again, then down his temple, ending with them tracing his lower lip.  His eyes are still closed as he swallows hard.

 

“Mirala…” he starts, voice fragmented.  I hum at the name, bittersweetness echoing through me.  My face is buried in his neck, breathing in the scent of him.  I can almost hear his pulse thundering in his body, matching mine in its throbbing rhythm.  The bass from the music provides the counter-melody to it.  The urge fades slightly, enough to be almost manageable.

 

“Mm?”

 

“I...I should…” he clears throat, catching his breath.  “I should go…”

 

“Yes…” I breathe, “...you really should, Shepherd.”

 

I don’t want him to.  But it’s for the best...I can’t let this take control of me, not tonight, not yet.  Not here.  I rub my cheek against his while I back off, the beginnings of stubble lightly scratching my skin.  He stays frozen as I fall back onto the seat next to him.  I press one more burning kiss on his cheek before throwing my arm over the back of the seat and grasping my drink again, staring out over the dance floor.  

 

He leaves without another word.  

 

~***~

 

The next time I see him, he’s leaning against the wall in front of the precinct with his solar shields on again and a lit cigarette burning between his fingers.  I stand in front of him, gazes locking together for a heated moment before I mimic him.  After a few moments, I break the silence.

 

“So do you actually smoke?  I never see you actually put it to your lips.”

 

His response was simply to bring it up to his mouth, suck in a deep breath, then flick the butt to knock the ash off, letting the smoke drift out of his nostrils.  Like he has fire smoldering in his chest and that’s the only outlet.  I stare, fascinated.  

 

“How’s that?  Better?”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s worse?”

 

“No.  It simply was an observation.  I see you holding them occasionally but I never see you actually take a drag.”

 

He snorts, the rest of the smoke shooting out and dissipating before my eyes.

 

“Drag to become a dragon,” he mutters, shuffling his feet and standing up.  I stay where I am, holding up my little piece of wall.

 

“....I didn’t catch that,” I murmur, putting my hand on his forearm briefly. The urge stirred. A flash goes through me when he blinks at our skin touching, then meets my eyes.

 

“Stupid kid shit.  I’d forgotten about it…” he said quietly,  “When I was younger, I would steal a couple of smokes from my old man.  I would do that little trick right there for my brothers...they would egg me on, say I was a dragon.”  

 

The silence is thick between us as he takes another pull from the cigarette.  His tongue flicks against his lips, moistening them before he shakes his head and exhales the smoke away from me.  Courteous of him.  He knocks the ash off again and stares at the ground this time.

 

“I’m sorry…didn’t mean to bring family up.  Kind of a heavy topic.”

 

“It’s alright.  We all have our demons in the night.”  I shift against the wall, studying him.  I seem to remember in the dregs of my mind reading about old human tales of men in metal armor fighting fire-breathing serpents.  I don’t care enough to ask about it, though.  I ask about the other thing instead.  “Do you miss them?”

 

“...every damn day,” came the terse answer.  “But I try not to think about it.  You?”  

 

“Every damn day,” I agree, not taking my eyes off his face.  “I also try not to think about it.”  

 

“Is that why you asked me to call you ‘Mirala’?”

 

A pit of ice forms in my stomach at that.   _Goddess_.  

 

“It’s...a name I gave up a long time ago.  I miss hearing it sometimes.”

 

He shakes his head again, annoyed.  

 

“Whatever you say.  I haven’t lied to you _yet_ , y’know.  The least you could do is return the favor.”

 

“I owe you nothing, Shepherd.”  My voice grows hard and I cross my arms over my chest.  He does the same, cigarette burning in his fingers.

 

“I suppose you don’t,” he mutters after a tense moment, tossing the butt to the ground and stepping on it.  “Sorry I presumed.  See ya.”

 

He slouches off, shoulders hunched.  Almost like he’s angry, but I don’t think it’s with me.  I watch him go, frustrated myself.  His long legs eat up the ground at an astonishing rate, putting a good amount of distance between us in a short time.  

 

“Shepherd...wait…”  I start jogging after him.  “Shepherd!”  He doesn’t turn around until I finally catch up to him and grab his arm, tugging him around to face me.

 

“ _Mark_.”

 

Our eyes lock, guarded and wary.  I sigh and drop his sleeve, lacing my fingers through his and pulling him after me.

 

“C’mon.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Lunch.  My treat for once.”

 

I glance back at him again.  He’s no less wary than before, but some of the fire’s gone out.

 

“Alright, then.”

 

~***~

 

We sit across from each other in a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, secluded in the back corner booth.  He’s silent, waiting for me to make the first move and break the ice.  It’s not the easy, companionable quiet I’ve come to expect from him at this point and I’m not quite sure what to do about it.  I ache a bit at the distance.  I feel like he could have known me forever.  The creature in my gut is uneasy at the barrier between us, wanting to reach out to him again.  It’s getting impatient.  I feel it pacing, a ticking clock in the back of my head.   _Soon_ , I tell it, _soon..._

 

The server delivers our drinks and I toy with my cup a bit.  He stares out the window, people watching.

 

“I wasn’t lying to you either, you know…”

 

He whips his head around, jaw set in a challenge.

 

“Weren’t you?  It doesn’t matter, I don’t care about that.  I care that you don’t trust me enough with the truth.  Especially now, after...”  He shook his head and looks away, scrubbing a hand over his buzzed hair in frustration.  

 

“Didn’t I?  I told you what my born name was…”  My voice matches the edge in his.  I can’t help taking a little dig at him, return the favor of how maddening he can be.  He pauses at that, the gravity of my words hitting home.  “That’s right.  You’re the first person I’ve told it to in centuries.   _Asked_ to use it.  So tell me again how I don’t trust you enough?”

 

He remains silent, staring at the table this time.  I reach out and take his hand, his fingers large and calloused and rough compared to mine.  My thumb strokes his knuckles, drawing small circles over the bones.

 

“I don’t want this to make a rift between us, love…” I say, earnest.  His head snaps up at that, brow furrowed and eyes boring into mine.  I squeeze his hand.  The surprise is palpable in him.  “I feel such a _connection_ to you, I just...I want there to be more between us.  You make me feel like...like I’m not so alone anymore.”

 

“...I think you might be getting the wrong idea about me,” he says softly after a pause.  He leaves his hand in mine.

 

“I don’t,” I smile, blinking at him.  Our food comes out then and we fall silent, the waitress giving me a knowing wink when she sees our joined hands on the table before she leaves again.

 

“Look, Mirala-”

 

“-Maliana, please...or ‘Mali’.  It was a momentary weakness for nostalgia’s sake.  I shouldn’t have asked.”  I glance down at our hands briefly.  “Mirala doesn’t exist anymore.  She’s a ghost of a lifetime past, swept away by the demons of the night winds.”

 

“Must be an asari expression; that’s the second time you mentioned demons in the night.”

 

Goddess...I meet his eyes and a ripple goes up my spine.  I’ll have to be more careful with what I say around him.  I’m growing too comfortable.

 

“It is,” I reply softly, “left over from millennia gone by, back when the asari were more tribal than anything.  Some expressions have staying power.  Too bad the dialect died out.”

 

He sighs before he continues.

 

“Back to the original topic, Maliana.  Look, I...I’m not…” he cups his other hand over the top of mine.  “I’m not exactly someone anybody should want to get mixed up with...I’m not good in relationships.  I’m never around.  Too much baggage.  The other person always gets hurt.”

 

I stare into his eyes.  He seems sad.

 

“You’re around plenty enough for me, Shepherd.”

 

I keep my voice light and quiet.  Intimate.  Draw him back to me, like a moth to flame, I believe the human colloquialism is.  He shakes his head.

 

“I’m here for a job.  Once I get what I need, I’ll be away on the next one and never look back.  And the next one after that, and the next after that.  I go wherever my orders tell me to go.”

 

“Then you should leave it all behind.  Come with me instead.”  

 

He sighs and pulls his hands away, looking out the window.

 

“You can’t deny we have a bond,” I continue, imploring him.  I put my hand on his cheek and turn his face back to mine.  “You said it yourself.  We both have family we can’t go back to, for some sad reason or other.  My story is your story.  Right?”

 

No answer.

 

“You talk about your brothers, and how much you miss them.  I...I’d give anything to be able to hug my sisters again.  Talk with them late into the night, giggling about life and love.  I think they would’ve liked you.”

 

He blinks at me, still silent.

 

“I write them letters sometimes.  Still…” I shake my head ruefully at myself.  “Been doing it for years, now.  I’ve lost count how many...I know they’ll never get read.  But knowing that I wrote them for _them_...it’s enough.  Because it has to be.”

 

“Are they…” he leans forward, brow furrowed deeper this time.  There’s that damnable quirk of not finishing a question again.  I give a wistful smile and tip my head forward, putting our faces close together.  He doesn’t move.

 

“They’re in a better place…” I whisper.  He can believe they’re dead, if that’s what he’s insinuating.  Probably better that he does.  “And yours?”

 

He gets a faraway look in his eyes, not really seeing what’s in front of him.

 

“Same.  Batarian raid.  I, uh…had just got out of boot camp.  First deployment was to an SOS, colony under attack.  And it was my home.  By the time we dropped, it wasn’t a rescue mission anymore.”

 

“I’m so sorry, love…”

 

That would explain his reservations with batarians I had previously seen in the markets.  I brush my thumb over his lips and stroke his cheek before letting my hand drop to the table.  He closes his eyes a moment and sighs, not seeming so startled at my pet name this time.  I’m not surprised in the slightest about the military reference, either.    

 

“It is what it is,” comes the terse reply.  He picks at his skewers, a mix of spiced grilled meats and vegetables.  

 

“Indeed.  No sense in living in the past when what you’re looking for is right in front of you.”  I hold his gaze for a strong moment before delicately nibbling at one of my own skewers.  The meat is rare, just the way I like it.  

 

“Are you so certain you’re what I’m looking for?” he asks coyly.  There’s a spark in his eyes.  Interesting.

 

“I wasn’t referring to you,” I reply, matching his tone.  “Well...not _that_ way, anyway.”  He chuckles, whatever iciness he had left melting away.  “So.  You want to tell me about that bruise?”

 

“Nope.  You wanna tell me about the case?”

 

“I shouldn’t.”

 

“But you’re going to?”  He slides a piece of meat off the skewer with his teeth and grins, more a baring of teeth than anything else.  That spark is still in his eyes.

 

“High likelihood. I’m feeling generous and disenchanted enough to want to bitch.”

 

He laughs again at that.

 

“Tell me how you really feel.”

 

“I already did.” I toy with the tip of my skewer between my lips, watching him focus on it. He clears his throat and brings his eyes back to mine.  “You remember the newer officer I told you about the other night in the club?  I think she’s tailing me.”

 

“No shit…”  His drink pauses on its way to his mouth.

 

“Yes, shit.”  

 

That garners another snort of amusement from him.  

 

“Does she have a reason to tail you?”

 

“Who knows what crazy theory she’s chasing in her skull.”

 

“Mm.  Are you _giving_ her any reason to tail you?”  His gaze sharpens, that spark lighting it up again.   

 

“ _I_ don’t think so, but obviously her opinion is different than mine,” I say coolly.  He nods, fussing with his plate a bit.

 

“She find anything?”

 

That gives me pause.  A half-grin is playing on his lips, eyes still bright and anticipatory.

 

“...There’s always something if you dig deep enough on anybody.”  The creature in my gut perks up.  “Do you _think_ she would have anything to find?”

 

“Like you said.  There’s always something if you dig deep enough.”  He pushes his plate away from him and stands up.  “Listen, I’m going dark for a few days.  I have something I need to check out myself.  But we should meet up again for lunch.”

 

“When will you be back?”  I grab his wrist, fingers lightly tracing the soft skin underneath.  I feel his pulse quicken.

 

“Not longer than five days.”

 

“Ok.  Meet back here then?  Same time?”

 

He pulls away.

 

“I’ll hold you to it.  Thanks again for lunch.”

 

I glance down at my plate.  When I look up again, he’s gone.

 

~***~

 

The door outside the captain’s office in the precinct is open a crack when I approach it; I want to go over a few things with her about the investigation and how I feel the killer might be ready to run soon.  I would need to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice if that happened.  I pause and raise my hand to knock, then stop when I hear voices.  Familiar ones.

 

“Don’t you think this is a little too convenient, ma’am?  It just doesn’t add up...clues that always pan out to nothing, no matter how hot.  Information missing out of files that I _know_ were there before.  Hell, there’s stuff missing from evidence collected at the crime scenes that I don’t even think made it to the station.”

 

 _Lineah_.

 

“Bite your tongue, Officer.  She has years of experience.  You’re just mad that a few pieces of evidence you gathered were deemed inadmissible because they were mishandled in gathering or storage.”

 

“I _know_ I did my job properly, and I did _not_ compromise the quality of the contents.  I can promise you that.”

 

Her voice is hard and brittle.  

 

“Regardless.  Your obsession with her is a little worrisome, as is your paranoia.  You might need to take some leave...get some rest and come back with fresh eyes.”

 

“But, Captain Raelyn, you can’t deny that it isn’t suspicious!  Isn’t it worth having someone else dig through it, too?”

 

The captain sighs.  I can just picture her rubbing her temples in exasperation.

 

“Tell you what.  Leave your file with me and I’ll have Internal Affairs take a peek.  But this is the last I want to hear about it until they get back to me.  Ok?”

 

I didn’t hear Lineah say anything and I turn on the spot, walking away at a brisk pace.  It wouldn’t be very wise to be caught eavesdropping outside the door.

 

~***~

 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Shepherd.  We don't have an infinite amount of time for you to get this done.”

 

“I understand that, sir.  It’s in the works and we’re mobilizing soon.  Trust me.”

 

My first sight of him after his little hiatus is a strange one: his back is straight and stiff in his chair at the cafe table, stiffer than it’s been in the few weeks we’ve known each other.  Interesting.  The other man is shorter than he is, but that doesn't seem to bother him at all.  He still is in command of the situation, or at least believes he is.  I make my way towards them, silent and hidden in shadow.

 

“Everything alright?” I quietly ask and slither into the chair beside him, putting my hand on his arm.  He glances at my hand on his skin, blue against cream, then meets my eyes briefly before turning his attention back to his compatriot.  They share a poignant look and the other man purses his lips, lighting a fresh cigarette.  He offers one to Shepherd, but he declines with a small shake of his head.

 

“Peachy.  Maliana, meet my boss: Jack Harper.”

 

Shrewd, pale eyes pierce mine as he flicks his ash and extends a hand.

 

“Pleasure, Mr. Harper…”

 

I bat my eyes demurely and place my hand delicately in his, then squeeze.  Hard.  His eyes widen at the strength of my grip, steel fingers wrapped in skin soft as a flower petal.

 

“Indeed.  Enchanted, Miss…”

 

He tries to drop my hand first, but I don’t let him.  I hold it a few seconds longer before I release it.  

 

“Maliana, please.  Or ‘Mali’ for short...Mark here tends to forget that there’s no need to stand on ceremony with me.”

 

“If only he were that deferential to all parties.  I’m sorry to have to leave as soon as we meet, but that’s business.  If you’ll excuse me, I have a transport I need to catch.  Shepherd?”  

 

He stands up and so does the taller man.  They share another poignant look before Shepherd turns back towards me.

 

“I’ll be right back if you want to stick around for a few moments.”

 

“Take all the time you need,” I smile, tilting my head to the side.  “I’ve got my sights on you.”

 

He nods at that, the other man blowing a lungful of smoke out while they walk away towards the civilian docks.

 

“You’re playing with fire, Shepherd.  It’s going to get you nothing but burned…”

 

I can’t hear any more of their conversation as they move away.  Something doesn’t sit right with me about Harper.  His sincerity is too practiced, too unctuous...and there is something elusive about his manner.  Similar to Shepherd in that regard, though Mark’s demeanor is different.  I get the impression neither man care if people think they are lying.  But Shepherd would deflect it with humor, would say something along the lines of, “Well, you got me, gosh darn,” then move the conversation away from it.  Harper gave the impression he would simply say it was all in your head and continue exactly what he was doing.  Less intelligent beings would be caught in a vicious cycle of not knowing if they were imagining things or not.  Cruel and effective.  

 

I watch them talk in front of the gangway to the transport shuttle and order a drink, bored.  They finally part ways, Shepherd making his back to me while shaking his head.

 

“So is everything really ‘peachy’?  Or were you just saying that to please your boss?”

 

He sits down with a huff across from me.

 

“If they would be patient, they would see that we’re almost done here.  Just a few more days, then they’ll get everything they want and nobody’s day gets ruined.  Well...nobody on _my_ side’s day gets ruined.  The target might think otherwise.”

 

“What happened?”  I sip my drink through a straw, eyes locked on his.   

 

“I met with a contact to see if they had anything new for me, but it didn’t pan out.  What they _had_ was all circumstantial.  Which I can still use, just not the way I was hoping to.  Bit frustrating, but what’re you gonna do…”

 

“Mm,” I hum in agreement, “I know how you feel.  Completely.”

 

“Harper was hoping I would have something a little more...tangible...for him by this point, but like I told him.  A few more days and he’ll be reaping it in.  Everything he wants, gift-wrapped and tied up nice and neat with a bow.”

 

“You know, I don’t think you ever told me specifically what it is you do.”

 

“Information procurement.  Told you that the first time we spoke.  ‘Member?  At the club?”

 

“I do.  But I don’t think that’s the whole story, either.”

 

“Like you’ve told me everything about yourself here?” he snorts.  “I’m sure you’re familiar with the less being said, the better about certain things.  Gag orders are very real, y’know.  If I breach my non-disclosure agreement, I will be put in a place nobody could ever find me again.”

 

I lean forward and brush my fingers against his bare forearm again.

 

“I also remember you saying we were after the same thing.”

 

“Well, we are,” he grinned, picking up his own drink.  “Information.  You’re a detective, hunting down clues on a case.  I am _also_ hunting down info.  Same as you.  Just, y’know...not the same title.”

 

“Don’t play coy, Shepherd.”  

 

The creature in my gut shifts uneasily.  

 

“Relax; walls have ears.  I can neither confirm, nor deny, that we are interested in anything similar other than information and the previously stated acquisition of it.”

 

He takes a sip, eyes steady on mine.  I blink, a niggling thought in the back of my head squirming to the front.

 

By the goddess.  

 

It seems he does lie to me, after all...I just now put together the fact that he tends to use a more cultured vocabulary when he’s skirting an issue.  And his enunciation becomes more...distinct.  Less backwater planet and more urban.  Almost scholarly.  Sloppy mistake on his part, though, trying to backtrack previous conversations.  Perhaps he and his boss have more in common than I thought.

 

 _Interesting_.

 

A slow smile curls on my lips as the urge unfolds itself in me, stretching and filling every dark corner it can.  Comfortable once again.  Hungry.  The compulsion to move soon is ever-constant now.  I’ll need to act.  But now I have a time frame.    

 

“Oh, trust me...I understand that, as well.”     

 

~***~

 

A shadow falls across my terminal at my desk in the bullpen and I look up.  Lineah is standing over me, a frustrated look on her face.

 

“Can I help you?” I deadpan, going back to typing up my report.

 

“Why.”

 

I sigh and remove my hands from the haptic keyboard, then look back up at her, impatient.

 

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

 

“Why is it you can just waltz in here, do whatever you want, and nobody has a problem with it, ever?”

 

“...you’ll still have to be a bit more specific.  I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

 

“I’m onto you.  Changing the details of a report after it was submitted?  That was bold.”

 

The urge shifts in my belly, seeping into the cracks and crevices.  I allow my mouth to drop open in shock, widening my eyes to help the effect.

 

“Ex _cuse_ me?”

 

Her fists are balled at her sides.  I’m almost concerned she’ll actually hit me.

 

“You think you’re so slick, sabotaging evidence.  It’s just a matter of time before it catches up with you.”

 

“ _What_ ?  Lineah, dear...what are you _talking_ about?”

 

Everyone else in the room falls silent, staring at her.  Her chest heaves, jaw tight.  I sigh and shake my head, rubbing my forehead in exasperation.

 

“Officer, I believe you have been working too much and are now making connections that aren’t there.  Be careful with what you’re saying and doing...people might start to think you’re crazy.  And that won’t help you in this line of work.  I’ve seen it happen before.”  She opens her mouth to make a snappy retort, no doubt, but I cut her off.  “I’m going to let this little incident go, and not bring it to the attention of the brass.  I think you have a lot of potential, and quite a bit going for you...I’d hate for your stellar reputation to get tarnished because you came up with some bizarre kind of conspiracy theory about me and obstructing my very own _case_.”

 

She turns on her heel and stalks away in a huff.  Concerned whispers float through the air as I go back to my report.  I might have to visit the captain myself to do a little damage control.

 

~***~

 

“I’m concerned.”  We didn’t even greet each other this time when we met up; we simply walk together and sit down at a typical corner booth, then punch in our orders.  I break the silence after the waitress brings our food; I’m tense and I can’t help the restless sensation from taking over.

 

“About what?”

 

“I think Lineah has put a target on her back…”

 

He scowls and pauses, putting his sandwich back on his plate after long moment.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You remember me telling you she was digging into things she shouldn’t?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“She hasn’t stopped.  And she potentially just kicked the hive over.”

 

“...oh?”  He takes a sip of his drink, feigning disinterest.

 

“I tried to warn her off, but there’s not much I’m going to be able to do to stop it from happening.  If she’s got her sights set on her, Lineah is not long for this world.  Even if she were granted a protection detail.  Of which she has not.”

 

The silence is palpable.

 

“Who?” he asks faintly.  

 

“The killer, of course.”

 

He sits up suddenly like he was bitten and his omni-tool sparks to life.  His face hardens as I watch him typing furiously.  I peer at him, concerned.

 

“ _Shit_.”

 

“Mark…?”

 

“I have to go.”

 

His tone is clipped, brow furrowing.

 

“But we just sat down-”

 

“I have to go.   _Now_.”

 

He hurriedly shrugs into his jacket and throws his credit chit at me, scooting back the chair from the table.  I can only stare at him in shock.  His face is carefully blank as he smooths the coat and looks over his shoulder.

 

“But what _happened_?”

 

“I just...something fell into place, apparently.  Just got a notification of a hit on something I needed.  I...have to move on this, otherwise the whole thing’s liable to blow up.” He nods distractedly at the credit chit.  “I’ll get it later, get what you want.  See ya…”

 

The creature in my gut unfurls itself, curious at the excitement.  I sincerely doubt he was telling the truth with his last statement, regardless of the lack of his usual tell.

 

“Is this the end?” I whisper.  

 

“If all goes according to plan,” he said tightly, “The job’ll be wrapped and done by sunrise if I’m right.”

 

“What if you’re wrong?”

 

There’s no answer; he’s already heading towards the door, long legs eating up the length of ground beneath his feet.  

 

“Will you be back tonight?” I call after him.  There’s no answer but the dark of his jacket melding into the twilight outside.  He’s gone, just like that.  I’ve lost my appetite.  For food, at least.  I swipe his chit in the kiosk and inspect it while the receipt tabulates. It’s a cheery blue with the Citadel insignia on it.  I don’t recognize the bank it’s through.  Upon closer inspection, there is what looks like a small insignia scratched in one corner, almost like a stylized ‘C’.  I can’t quite make it out.  Intriguing.  I run my thumb over the raised letters of his name: _Mark A. Shepherd_.  I wonder what the ‘A’ stands for.  Do all humans have a random letter after their first name?  I flip the card over in my hand and come to a decision.  The bill is paid, thanks to my generous shadow, though I don’t believe I can continue calling him that anymore.  His leaving had an air of finality to it.  My omni-tool burns against the darkening night as I type my message, walking away from the restaurant.

 

<< _Lineah.  I need to talk to you… Can you meet me?_ >>

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. O, Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which then begs the question of the 'how'

**_The Hunted_** , by potionsmaster

 

Rating: M for game level violence, death, sex, drugs, mind games, the whole nine

 

 **Chapter 3:**   _O, Death_

 

~***~

 

The music is throbbing at Gomorrah later that night.  I see her standing in the doorway of the club, uneasy and stiff.  She must not get out much.  I catch her eye and wave her over to my usual booth in the shadows, painting a bright and empty smile on my face.  Lineah tries to work her way through the dance floor to me, getting pushed back and forth between the pulsing bodies and dark rhythms so comfortable in the nightlife.

 

“I’m so glad you could make it!” I exclaim, squeezing her arm briefly before patting the seat next to me.  “We never really got a chance to sit and get to know each other, have we?”

 

She cautiously sits down, back stiff.  

 

“Yeah...not much time leftover once we’re off duty.  And, I dunno.  You always seem so... _distant_.  On the job, I mean.  You seemed like you wanted to be left alone, so the rest of us stopped trying to keep you included after a few months.”

 

“I know,” I murmur, leaning my elbow against the back of the seat and tilting my head to the side.  “I’ve been working this case for so long, I’ve learned not to get too friendly with the others involved, wherever I happened to be.  I’m sorry; I know it makes me come across as very stand-offish.”

 

Lineah purses her lips and hunches her shoulders.  

 

“Yeah, but _why_?  Investigations live or die by the network and connections made from them.  Why keep everybody at a distance?”

 

“Do you want a drink?  You seem tense.” I ignore her questions and try to distract her.  Loosen her up a little.

 

“Um...I guess.  Sure.  What are you having?” she asks, almost meek as she eyes the glass.  The urge slithers in the back of my mind.   _Patience_ , I soothe it.

 

“Me?  My usual.   _Poisoned Eternity_ …”  I swirl the dark purple drink in my hand.  “Ever had one before?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well!  You’re about to.”  I punch in the drink order on the table kiosk and turn back to her. She’s giving me a narrow look.  “What?”

 

“You’re evading.”

 

I sigh.  Persistent little bitch.

 

“No, I’m not, I’m...considering how to phrase my answer best.”

 

She blinks.

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Look, it’s...complicated.  You’ve studied long term cases before, right?”  She nods, pursing her lips and leaning forward a bit.  Good.  I lean my elbow on the table and swirl my drink, staring into it like I’m searching for answers.  “...you ever study one where the suspect feels like they have a connection to the investigator?  And acts accordingly?”

 

I glance up at the sharp intake of breath.  There’s a gleam in her eye, similar to the one Mark would get.  The urge swells in my chest then and I stop breathing a moment, trying to quell it.

 

“Yeah…”

 

“Yeah.” Her eyes are huge, glittering in the lights flashing from the dance floor.  I look over my shoulder at the bar.  “I’ll say again…” I continued, turning back to her, “I have _learned_ not to get too _friendly_.”

 

“I get it.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“That would definitely explain some things.”  She shifts in her seat, leaning forward even more, face earnest.  So young and naive…  “But I don’t understand something.”

 

“What’s that?” I ask, tracing the edge of my tumbler with a fingertip.  Unlike my other shadow, she doesn’t really register the motion.  Pity.

 

“Why are you getting ‘friendly’ now?”

 

The question isn’t entirely unexpected.  And it provides a nice segue, too.

 

“Well, surely you know some people on the force have certain ways of _relaxing_ when they get home.”  She nods, her stance belying her anxiousness.  “Sometimes, I just don’t want to be alone while I _relax_.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“You seem like a smart girl.  One I can trust.”

 

“Forgive me for being skeptical, but that seems odd.  Especially given the past couple of weeks.”

 

I pause and take a sip. She has a point.

 

“It’s because of that,” I finally say.  “I know that you, out of everyone else, would understand the most.  It’s very rare I can find someone to relax with.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean the _how_.”  She blinks at me, curious now.  I clarify.  “Mine sometimes comes in a bottle.”

 

“Booze?”  The sympathy dripping from her face was almost too much.

 

“No...other things come in a bottle, too,” I chuckle.  Her eyes widen in surprise.  “Only when I really need to have a night to let loose, you know?  Relax.  Let myself lose control a little.  I’m open to sharing tonight, if you are.”  

 

“I’m alright,” she declines, searching my face.  “Maliana, I’m...glad you told me what you did.  That’s a fantastic amount of pressure to be under.  Especially for as long as you’ve been on the case.  How many years has it been, again?”

 

I let myself get a far-away stare beyond her, fingering the pill bottle in my pocket.

 

“Feels like since I was born,” I whisper.  “Always on the hunt, always having an eye out over my shoulder.”    

 

“But...that doesn’t quite make sense.”

 

“What doesn’t?”  I pull the kiosk towards me and check the drink order status: prepared and the waitress was getting ready to bring it.  I cancel the delivery and send a message on the order that someone would pick it up at the bar.

 

“I thought they rotated homicide...try to prevent burnout, you know?”

 

“That depends on the station and how it’s being run.  I, however, am outside of that, as I am an Asari Republic government sanctioned investigator in this - oh, _damn!_ ” I interrupt myself, skin wrinkling on my forehead. “Looks like I forgot to tap the ‘deliver’ option for the drink...Let me go get it.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I can get it.” She starts to get up, but I put my hand on her shoulder and push her gently back into the deep seat, whispering in her ear.  Her skin is warm velvet against my lips.  A dark thrill slides over me, satin in the shadows.

 

“I insist…”

 

I make my way across the dance floor to the bar, fingering the top to the bottle.  Hesitation plagues me as I reach my destination; she’s a bright girl.  I doubt she realizes the game that’s afoot, though, even though the pieces are moving right in front of her.  The urge swells in me and my fingers brush the bartender’s as she hands me the drink, causing bumps to sprinkle along my arm at the sensation.  The pill dissolves with a slight cloudy trail swirling up from the bottom of the glass.

 

“Here.  Try this.  Go slow,” I caution as I hand it to her, “It’s got a nasty bite to it that can sneak up on you.”

 

She peers into the glass while I slip back onto the seat across from her and grab my own.

 

“...does yours look like this?” she mumbled, squinting at it in the darkness.  I chuckle and swirl my drink.

 

“At first, yes...one of the liquors is heavier and added last so it’s supposed to look like you’re drinking a galaxy of stars or something equally romantic-sounding.  But I’ve found it tastes better when it’s blended.”

 

Lineah purses her lips, then copies the motion with her own drink.  It’s almost too easy.

 

“It’s pretty good,” she admits after a swirl and a sip.  “But I want to talk a bit more.  About the stuff from earlier, I mean.”

 

“Of course you do,” I mutter, taking a long drink.  She folds her hands around hers and looks at me.

 

“It takes a lot of courage to...I don’t want to say ‘admit to it’, because I don’t think that’s exactly what I’m looking for, but...confess?  Let me know what was _really_ going on, at least.  That has to be a terrible burden.  Exhausting to keep it up for so long.”

 

I blink at her over the top of my drink, chin tucked to my chest.  Let her think she’s finally cracked me.

 

“I’m so tired…” I agree, slumping my shoulders and practically collapsing on the table. “So many years, so much history…”

 

She takes another sip, looks in the glass, then takes another.

 

“How did it start?  If you don’t mind my asking?”

 

“Well.  You know, I’m not quite sure?  It’s been so long, it feels like it’s always been there.   _She’s_ there.  Watching.  And for some reason, she seems to tolerate me.  Or owns me.  Not much of a difference when it comes to her, I suppose.”  I let my voice go bitter.  It’s not as hard to do as it should be.

 

“Aren’t you ever scared?”

 

“Of what?” I reply, swirling my drink in my hand and nodding at hers.  She takes another sip and leans back in the booth.

 

“Of her coming for you.  I’m guessing the people who got close to you were hurt somehow.  And I’m also guessing they probably got hurt by _her_.”   

 

“ _Oh_.”

 

Logically, that makes sense.  No harm in her believing that.

 

“I suppose,” I venture hesitantly.  “I always got the feeling that she was almost protecting me, in her own way.”

 

“From what?”  Lineah blinks again, taking a little longer to open her eyes this time and raises the glass to her lips once more.

 

“From herself, I would assume.  I don’t know why I’m the special one to her.”

 

“What.  Uh.”  She pauses.  “I’m sorry, I’m having...trouble trying to formulate my thoughts.”

 

“It’s ok...take your time,” I say, sliding close enough to her that our thighs touch.  She blinks at me again and watches dumbly as I take a small sip from her glass.  Just enough to make it fun for me and soothe any doubts for her.

 

“Why did you do that?” she asked.  Her words are being carefully enunciated now; probably her way of trying to hide what already is taking hold of her.  I smile at her, slow and heated as the blood flowing through her veins.  The darkness inside flutters, anxious to be free.  I hold the glass up to her lips and nod at her, imploring her to drink.  She brings a lethargic hand up to mine and carefully grips the tumbler, relieving me of supporting it.  There isn’t much left in the glass anymore.  I rest my hand on our thighs and feel the muscle in her leg tense.

 

“I wanted to see if yours tasted better.”

 

“Does it?”

 

“I think it would taste better on your lips.”

 

Lineah’s eyes flicker at that and she stares at me.  The little gasp she tries to hide gives her away; the drug is working its magic.  I already feel its smooth tendrils creeping through me.  It’s not enough to dull my instincts, though.  Just enhance them.  I prefer to remain clear-headed as much as possible in times like these.  

 

“I...I’m flattered, but...” She puts the glass back up to her lips and tosses the rest of it back, more to give her something to do to avoid saying anything to me, I wager.  I pluck the empty glass from her and place it on the table, fingers still dancing on her leg.  “...I don’t feel good.”  She sways in the seat and places a shaky hand on her forehead.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

The creature in my gut luxuriates against the walls of my abdomen, anticipating.  I force myself to breath evenly.   _Soon…_

 

“I...I don’t know, I...I’m lightheaded all of a sudden.”

 

I take a sip of my own drink and catch her by her shoulders as she falls into me.

 

“Didn’t I tell you to go slow?  You can’t hold your liquor, lovey.”  

 

Her breath is warm against my cheek and I drag my lips against hers, poisoned eternity indeed.  Every nerve in my body lights up and the urge swipes at me to do more.  She gasps and freezes.

 

“I should go.”

 

That makes me smile, though I’m sure she wouldn’t find the reason as funny as I do.

 

“Let me walk you home; you never know what you’ll run into at night.  I saw a fight in an alley a few weeks ago between a couple of humans.  We were lucky there wasn’t a body to deal with the next morning.”  She leans heavily on me as I ease her out of the seat and wrap my arm protectively around her.  We stagger out into the darkness, close and silent in comparison to the club.  I see the alley where Shepherd had his fun and I tug her along.  My pulse pounds at the memory.  We turn down it and the creature in my gut purrs.

 

“This...no,” she slurs, shaking her head messily.  “I don’t live...wrong direction.  Maliana?”

 

The backstreet grows darker the further along we go.  She stumbles and I pull her closer to me, practically holding her up now.

 

“Shhh.  My place is closer.  Just down this way.  I don’t think you should be alone tonight.”

 

Her head lolls against my shoulder as she tries to look at me.

 

“Wha’s wrong with me?”

 

“You drank too fast.  I _told_ you it was sneak up on you if you didn’t take your time...” I chided, almost amused.  

 

“‘M I gon’ be ok?  I can...walk by m’self.”

 

“No, love, you can’t.”  I hook my fingers in her belt loops, keeping her firmly against me.  She blinks and tries to put up a struggle, but it’s easy to subdue her again.  My own pulse quickens, anticipating.

 

“Don’t wan’ go with you.”

 

“You don’t have a choice right now.  You’re in danger.”

 

A trash bin tips over just then, nicely illustrating my point as she sluggishly jumps at the noise.  

 

“Wha...what?” she slurs, trying to push herself away from me.  I tighten my grip around her and cup her head to my chest, darting a glance over my shoulder.  I could have sworn I saw a shadow move.  The thread of excitement coils in my gut and puts me on high alert.

 

“Lineah.  Remember me saying I learned ‘not to get close’?  And remember those cases where the perpetrator feels like they have a connection to the investigator, and they do things because of it?  You caught her attention, love.  I wanted to warn you.  Keep you _safe_ …”

 

Something is definitely lurking in the darkness the further down the alley we get.  I scan the alley and look behind me again, chilled fingers dragging down my spine.  

 

We’re not alone.

 

“Mali...?  Is it... _her_?”

 

“Hush,” I dismiss her, cupping my hand over her mouth.  A shadow detaches itself from a blackened alcove in one of the buildings and moves after us.  My pulse starts racing.

 

Ambient light bleeds from an upper floor, not quite allowing me to see our pursuant.  But it’s enough.  The shadows from the surrounding buildings seem to gather in one large mass, growing into a looming figure.  It’s... _tall_.  Disturbingly so...taller than most other beings I’ve seen around the spaceport.  The massive form starts following us at a fast pace, long legs eating up the ground.  As it comes closer, the shades of darkness solidify and sharpen, giving way to a larger-than-life human in full tactical body armor, matte black for night ops.  Blue miasma flickers and flares over the shadowy figure, throwing the face into sharp relief as the biotic aura surrounds him.  My eyes snap to his hand, recognizing the convergence of energy before an attack is unleashed, then fixing back on his face.  Our eyes lock, familiar cobalt ice set in a strong, angular face and burning with a fire I’d only seen in myself.  A thrill goes through me and my breath catches with the sudden realization.

 

 _Ah_.

 

 _I’m_ the target.

 

What an interesting notion.

 

I bolt, lobbing a warp field over my shoulder at him.  Lineah is practically a dead weight as I drag her along.  I hear him growl in that same guttural Terra language from before as the biotic attack smashes into the side of the building and heavy boots start pounding after us.  I risk another glance behind me and see yet another shadow peel off and join the chase.  

 

“Payne.  Flush ‘em,” I hear another voice say.  It seems vaguely familiar, if not a little nasal...Ezno, I think his name is, from the alley. ‘ _Roger,_ ’ came the hushed radio callback. Yet another shadow moves to my left and without thinking, I duck right into a dilapidated warehouse along the docks.  

 

 _Shit_.

 

Lighter footfalls, like someone is trying to run but not be heard, follow us.  I appreciate the effort, but I have to laugh; they’re not being subtle at all.  Keeping my hand pressed against her mouth, I pull her into the shadows and towards the back.  I congratulate myself a moment for having the foresight to look at the layout of all the dock buildings and warehouses in port; contingency plans never fail to be useful.    

 

Lineah moans and stumbles into me.  I stagger under her weight and pull her close, straining to listen.  Muffled noises float through the air, but I can’t be sure if it’s our pursuants or simply the building settling.  I hope against hope it’s the latter.

 

“Spread out.  Clear the area.  Check for disturbances in the shit layin’ around.”

 

No such luck; I knew they were there.  Even though Shepherd’s voice is quiet, it’s still thunderously loud in the gloom.  My heart thuds painfully in my chest, the thrill of the hunt edged with the euphoria from the Hallex.  The place is huge, shipping crates and shelves providing a maze to lose them in.  I curse Lineah for slowing me down; if I had been on my own, this chase would be over by now.

 

“Maliana, _what_ in the goddess’s name is going _on_?”

 

Her words are muddy as I haul her down yet another debris-filled row and we duck into a storage area, shelves lined with musty boxes and bits of trash.  She falls to her knees this time and I’m not able to catch her.  The crash reverberates through the cavernous building and I curse silently.  A boot scrapes against the cement outside and she scrabbles towards me.  She clutches at me, eyes wide and glassy.

 

“I _told_ you…” I breathe, “You’re in _danger_.”

 

“But-”

 

“Shhhh…”  I press my lips to hers, more to silence her than anything.  Adrenaline buzzes through me and the urge rises.  “I’ll protect you.  We have to get out of here.”   _We have to get somewhere out of sight_ , I temper it, _Somewhere safe_.  “Follow me.”

 

I agree with the urge: the sooner, the better.

 

There’s a staircase on the other side of the room that leads to the second floor and the administration’s offices.  I dart across the floor towards it, pulling her along.  She trips once more and I hear a triumphant voice right behind us.

 

“ _Here_!”

 

A flash of anger boils in my stomach and I whip around, a sickly green biotic charge crackling immediately in my hand. The young human man lurking at the foot of the stairs doesn’t stand a chance.  I lob my attack at him and feel the connection between us as it hits home.  Faint shimmers of green flicker over him and he tenses up, limbs shaking as he tries to resist the compulsion I send him.

 

_...kill them..._

 

The rush is intoxicating.  His fear plucks at my mind and I turn my back on him.  I don’t need to watch to know what happens next.  Lineah gasps and backs clumsily up the stairs on all fours, looking at me with dismay.  I yank her to her feet and scrabble up the stairs, keeping low to the ground.  I bite my lower lip as I hear our huntsmen.

 

“Payne, what’re you doin’, man?  Why’re you shaking?  Put your rifle up.  It’s us!”

 

“Yeah, Corbin, cut the shit.  It ain’t funny.”

 

“ _Can’t!_ ”

 

The sheer panic in his voice as he responds gives a satisfaction to the creature in my gut.

 

“What do you mean, you _can’t-_ ”

 

“I mean I can’t _help_ it, I don’t have control!  She’s- _aaaaaugh!_ ”

 

I smile to myself and pause; resistance always is worse.  He strains against me, like a fly in a web.  Gunfire sprays over the floor behind us and there’s an ease in the pressure from him as he gives in to my demand.

 

“WHAT the _FUCK_?!  Stop firing, you shithead!”

 

“I’m sorry, I _have_ to do it!  I don’t want to; she’s making me!”

 

He makes a pitiful rally and fights the urge I give him to pull the trigger.  The other three men argue among themselves, agitated and not quite sure if what Payne says is even possible.  He’s practically hyperventilating from the effort to resist and it makes me giddy.  A familiar voice calls out, hard and decisive.

 

“Take ‘im out.”

 

“ _Shepherd_!  You can’t be serious!” Ezno protests.  Payne himself squeaks; his will flails against mine, almost spent.  I want to poke my head out and watch.  The top of the stairs gives us a decent vantage point on the scene below us, but there’s no way I’m giving away our position that easily.  They already know we’re upstairs.  I can only hope that the fire escape hasn’t been blocked.  We still have to get through all the desks and offices on this floor.

 

“I don’t know what she did, but fuck...guys, I-I feel her in my head.  It’s taking everything I have not to pull the trigger on you all…”

 

“Shut the _fuck_ up and put him down!  You think those are goddamn blanks in his magazine?”

 

My connection to the soldier wavers and I send another compulsion to him.   

 

_...kill them all.  Now._

 

“Payne, man, put it down!” the last unknown voice calls out. “We don’t wanna do this!”

 

“I..she’s making... _help me_!”

 

His resolve against me finally shatters and I hear gunfire.  More surprised and angry shouts from the men ring out and they return fire, more shots cracking through the air and the line of energy between us snaps.  Lineah gasps and claps a hand over her mouth as his body sprawls, convulsing, at the foot of the stairs, blood seeping in an ever-growing pool beneath him.  I turn away from the sight, trying to control myself.  There’s one more sharp, singular pop, then a disgusted voice mutters:

 

“Next time, don’t hesitate.  Headshot or bust; don’t just leave him there twitchin’.”

 

“ _Move,_ ” I whisper harshly at her, shoving her ahead of me.  Boots shuffle behind us, pausing at the body.  I cast a glance over my shoulder as we crawl around the corner of the landing and I see my shadow below, standing over the body and keeping watch while the other two pat it down and relieve it of weapons.  Smart boys.  Shepherd has his pistol out and at the ready.  There’s brain matter and gore splattered where the head used to be.

 

We slink as quietly as we can between the broken desks, but it’s slow going.  I snap my head around to the stairs again; I hear noises but don’t see anything.  Lineah is reeling.  I prop her against a desk panel and skulk back to the head of the staircase.  If I work it carefully, I can make a killbox and be done with it.  The urge washes over me again, excited to finally have a worthy opponent to test itself against.  I peer around the corner of the wall separating the stairs from the desks and the one I don’t know is creeping up the stairs, assault rifle out and determined look on his face.  The other two must be behind cover; I don’t see them.

 

All I need is a line of sight with one.

 

Poor fool didn’t even see it coming.  It washes over him and he stops dead, realization crashing down on him all at once.  I sneak back to Lineah and start prodding her.  We’re running out of time.  I need to get her alone.

 

“ _Shepherd_ …”

 

The strain is evident in his voice.  This one is stronger than Payne had been.  He feels more confident in his ability to fight it.

 

“He wasn’t lying.  She...she did it, she-”

 

“I know.  I saw her, Marshalls.  Your call.”

 

Interesting.  I wouldn’t have expected him to give them the choice.

 

“I...I dunno.  If I don’t move, I think I can-” his voice is broken as he pants.  “God, it feels like my nerves are on _fire._ ”  He exhales sharply.  “I don’t trust myself.  Need to fight it.  Can you get it off me?”

 

“What if I put him in a stasis field?” Ezno breaks in.  “That might give him a break and give _us_ time to regroup.”

 

Boots pace and Marshall’s resolve is beginning to wane.  Lineah’s eyes are finally open and she’s having trouble focusing.  I have half a mind to slap her just to wake her up.

 

“What if by the time the stasis wears off, whatever it is still is affecting him?  Naw, I think we need to try and get it off him.  We can’t just wait it out, either.”

 

“I don’t care what you do, just do it fast,” Marshalls gripes.  “ _Fuck_ …”

 

“Only other thing I can think of is a warp.  That might weaken it to where he can bust loose.”

 

“Do it!  For the love of God, just... _hngh_ …”

 

 _That’s_ going to be messy.  Not like I’ll tell them that little fact.  I flex my will and picture the rifle safety off.  He puts up a valiant struggle, but time is on my side.  

 

“Travis?”  Ezno asks gravely.

 

“Fuckin’ do it,” he grounds out behind gritted teeth, “Can’t hold on...much longer…and you’re running out of time.”

 

The air shifts and wavers as a warp field is deployed.  I force every fiber of my being into getting Marshalls to turn and pull the trigger.  The explosion from the biotic detonation and the abrupt gunfire simultaneously go off and the building shakes from the force of it.  Lineah is next to worthless at this point; part of the broken desk she was leaning on knocks her down and falls on her leg, crushing it  She blinks at me from the floor, dazed.     

 

I hear Shepherd and Ezno angrily spitting words back and forth at each other, though I can’t make out what they’re saying as Lineah stares dumbly at her leg, similar to their fighting in the alley.  It seems Marshalls’ wild gunfire hit Ezno in the abdomen and shoulder; he’s out of commission.  The broken piece is deceptively heavy as I move it off and assess the damage: broken ankle, but her boot should keep it relatively stable.  I wrap my arms underneath hers and start to drag her to the back; maybe we can hide in an office and Shepherd will move on.  It’s slow work.

 

Lineah is covered in a layer of sweat and grime, trying to bat me away.  

 

“Let me _go_ …” she rasps in a moment of lucidity.  “ _Monster_.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” I mutter.  We’re behind a closed door again, for what little good it will do me.  She manages to worm her way out of my arms and into the back corner.  I sigh and crouch down in front of her, searching her face.

 

“You’re...you’re never going to get away with this,” she pants, struggling to keep her eyes open.

     

“Easy, now, you clocked yourself on the head when the detonation went off.  You might have a concussion.  And that’s not going to look very good on your review the captain’s going to do; brain damage and conspiracy theories are not anything a detective should have on record.”

 

She spits in my face, then gasps.  A low voice growls behind me.

 

“Freeze.  _Now_ …”

 

My blood chills.  It’s _him_.  I can hear the soft click of his assault rifle as he thumbs the safety.  Lineah’s eyes are too wide again, breath shallow.  She stinks of fear.  I love it.  

 

“Or you’ll do _what_ , exactly?” I tease, keeping still.  After seeing what he did to Ezno in the alleyway and Payne downstairs, I’ve no doubts what he’ll do with his rifle if given half the chance.

 

“Drop your ass faster than a salarian can blink.  Hands together behind your back, nice and slow…”

 

The muzzle of the rifle digs in between my shoulder blades.  Cheeky…I arrange my wrists the way he wants me to and I feel restraints being put on.  I tense my arms and hold my wrists slightly apart, but he sees what I’m doing and clinches them together even tighter in the flexcuffs.  Cheeky _and_ observant.  The other asari passes out, just a heap on the floor.  Probably for the best.  He hauls me over to a chair and plunks me on it, then uses another flexcuff to secure my wrists to the back of it. Our noses almost touch, tip to tip, as he pulls up his own chair in front of me and leans forward, elbows on his knees.

 

“Talk.”

 

“I have nothing to say.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Oh, Shepherd...You know that doesn’t work with me.”

 

He cocks his head to the side.  Waiting.  I tilt my head with his, glancing at his lips before locking my gaze on his again.  All I can think of is how exciting it would be to taste them again.  

 

“Look, Mirala,” he starts, furrowing his eyebrows, “You’re in a bad spot right now.  And you know it.  Be smart about this, huh?”

 

I blink slowly at him, coy.

 

“Anything for you, Mark…”

 

“Uh-huh,” he deadpans.  “I’m gonna be candid with you.  It doesn’t matter if you’re alive to my boss.  Preferable if you are, but ‘not necessary to achieve mission objective’.  That’s how he worded it.”  He pulls out a capped syringe and holds it up between us.  “Know what this is?”

 

I swallow hard and shake my head.

 

“Omega-Enkaphalin.  Sound familiar?”

 

“...no…” I whisper.  We both know I’m lying. He snorts.

 

“There’s that ‘trust’ thing again…”  He spins the syringe between his fingertips.  “Anyway.  Nasty stuff.  This is a modified version, used for black-baggin’ assets with biotics.  Damn useful.”

 

“Are you done with the theatrics?  Because the foreplay is getting tiresome.”

 

“Baby, I’m just getting started,” he smirks.  “Thought you had more stamina than this.”

 

“Please…” I scoff, dropping the joking tone.  “You had me going, I must admit.  I had no idea what you were really doing.  I’m impressed.”

 

“Thanks, dollface.  High compliment, coming from you.”

 

“Asshole…” I spit at him.  That spark lights in his eyes again, smirk spreading.  “All that talk about not lying to me…”  

 

“All these nice things you’re saying about me are starting to go to my head.  But enough about me.  Let’s talk about _you_.  How’d you do it?”

 

I glare at him and flex my arms, testing the tensile strength of my restraints.  No go; my hands are starting to go cold at my fingertips.  

 

“Like I’m telling you.”

 

He shakes his head and _tsks_ at me, sighing after a moment.  

 

“Help me out.  And I just might be able to do something to help you.  Understand?”

 

“I fail to see how me telling you my hunting habits ‘helps’ you.  You caught me, I’m yours.  Death or incarceration is the only way this ends, and it’s in your best interests if it’s the first.”

 

“Uh- _huh_.  I choose option C.”  He sighs again and leans back in his chair, still toying with the syringe.

 

“Which is?”  I flex again, flaring my biotics on my hands so he wouldn’t see.  If I can create a small warp field, I might be able to weaken it enough to break loose.  He sits up and points the capped end at my face.

 

“ _Don’t_.”  

 

The word is soft.  Dark.  Dangerous.  I duck my head demurely and bite my lower lip.

 

“Don’t what?”

 

“I’m not playin’, Mirala.”

 

“Me either.  Though, if it _were_ a game...I always play for ‘keeps’.”

 

“Well, what d’you know…” he huffs a mirthless laugh.  “Another thing we have in common.”  He looks me over, blue eyes cold as they travel down and up my body.  “All joking aside, here’s my offer.  You teach me that little... _trick_...you do, and I promise I won’t kill you outright.  Addendum to that is you try to run, I’ll kill you.  You try to use it on me, I’ll kill you _dead_.  You give me what I want, you stand a chance at getting what _you_ want.  Deal?”

 

I stare at him, considering.  

 

“Are you so certain you could?” I ask, cautiously amused.  The creature in my gut rubs itself against the walls of my stomach, anxious to pit ourselves against him.  That damnable smirk widens into a grin.    

 

“Are you so certain I couldn’t?”  He leans forward again, a breath’s width away from touching.  “I’ve seen what you can do.  Felt your strength.”

 

“And?”

 

“And I think you would be a fun challenge.”

 

“And _I_ think you’d be almost formidable as an opponent yourself in about five or so years, considering how ridiculously loud you were chasing me.  Unless, of course, you wanted to blow your cover, or it never was a stealth mission to begin with...”

 

“Cute.”

 

He’s not amused.

 

I tilt my chin up and capture his bottom lip between my teeth, biting down hard.  The coppery tang of blood spreads on my tongue.  I had to taste him again, just once more.  A sharp pinch stabs the top of my thigh and all of a sudden it’s hard to breathe; his large hand is wrapped around my throat and squeezing.  Dark spots start to fill my vision and I gasp, unable to draw breath.

 

“Not.   _Playing_ …” he growls, shaking my neck hard enough to make my head rattle.  A ringing is growing in my ears, a klaxxon that I need air soon.  I struggle to break loose, the bindings around my wrists digging in painfully.  The needle in my leg quivers and hits a nerve, spreading like fire under my skin.  His fingers crush my throat and I start to worry he might actually kill me.   “Now.  Deal?”  

 

Air rushes into my lungs, sweet and harsh, as he drops back, rubbing his lip with a scowl.

 

“...deal…” I whisper hoarsely.

 

“I’m sorely inclined to retract that offer, current actions taken into account.  However…”  He frowned at his glove, then rubbed his lip again.  “You’re lucky I find you _interesting_ , as you like to put it.”  He flicks the syringe buried in my leg and I grit my teeth while it wobbles back and forth.  It’s hard to breathe past the pain.  My limbs twitch and rebel against the restraints.  “Otherwise I wouldn’t put up with this _bullshit._ ”  He flicks it again, renewing the electric current zinging sharply along my body.  I can’t help it; I stifle a cry of discomfort. A drop of blood is on his chin, oozing from his lip.

 

I feel nauseous; no doubt the O-E working its way through my system.  I’ve encountered it before, but never been on the receiving end of this kind.  I’m not entirely certain how it will react to the minute traces of Hallex still in my system.  My hands are numb at this point and cold sweat dots my upper lip.  He stares at me, face blank.  Just like it had been with Ezno on the ground in the alley.

 

“I’ll teach you,” I finally whisper.  

 

He blinks a moment, then twists the syringe in my thigh slowly, rolling it between his fingertips and bending it with a nasty deliberation as he peers at the markings.  I can’t help my grimace as I arch up against my restraints.

 

“Looks like you took all your medicine like a champ.  Atta girl.”  

 

I’m surprised he pulled it out so swiftly and smooth; that was an unexpected kindness.  My head reels.  I try to activate my biotics, but they feel...distant.  Slippery, almost, like I can’t quite concentrate enough to gather the power and it slips through my mental grasp.  He moves behind me and a flash of orange illuminates the dim room; burning plastic fills my nostrils and my hands are free.  I stagger out of the chair and spin around to face him.  That was a mistake.

 

My body lurches forward and I have to catch myself against the chair.  I raise my gaze to his slowly.  He seems taller than I remember, larger than life.   It must be the drugs.  

 

“So.”

 

“So…” I whisper back.  I manage to get my feet under myself and the world feels less like it’s underwater.  “In order to be able to know how to use it, you have to understand it.”  His brow furrows.

 

“Ok. What exactly is it?”

 

“Well,” I start, rolling my lips inwards a moment as I think how best to phrase it.  “It...it’s a very specialized attack.  One not common to most asari; only a blessedly small amount use it.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever come across it in the field.”

 

“There’s a reason for that.  It’s a very well-kept secret by my government.  One they don’t exactly want getting out to the rest of the illustrious Council races.”

 

I can’t help the bitterness in my voice.  He scoffs and shakes his head.

 

“That’s some heavy duty cloak and dagger shit right there.  Probably’ll come back to bite ‘em on the ass.  But I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

 

“Think of it as a warning, I suppose.  If people figure out what you’re doing, you’ll be persecuted.  Hunted down like an animal.  I don’t even know if I _can_ teach you, to be honest.  It might not translate across the species.”  

 

I hunch over; my stomach threatens to reverse itself again.

 

“Only one way to find out.  Tell me how.”

 

“Patience, young one.  You’re familiar with tech?”  He jerks his chin up once for assent.  “Essentially it’s the same as hacking a mech, except this is ‘hacking’ an organic’s nervous system.  It’s impossible to defend against, since once the target is under the influence, you _own_ them.”

 

He nods, almost hungry look on his face.  It speaks to him.  I knew it would.  Kindred spirits, he and I.

 

“... _show me_.”

 

His words are soft, barely there, but have such gravity to them.  I could just eat them up.  His icy stare bores into my very being.  I wheeze and manage a pained smile.

 

“Clear your mind.”

 

“This sounds different than what I was expecting.”  He scowls at me.

 

“Shut up,” I hiss at him.  “Do you want to learn this?  Because I can very easily disappear and leave you high and dry.”

 

He swallows whatever sarcastic retort he had and clenches his jaw.

 

“Good.  Clear your mind...You have to _mean_ it when you do it...the will to dominate, at all costs, has to be there, otherwise it doesn't work.   _You_ do what _I_ want, no exceptions.  A touch, a caress...all helps to strengthen your hold on them.  But if you can’t touch, you must be the unstoppable force and _crush_ them.”  I close my fist in a ball in front of my face to punctuate it.  “Think about what you’re about to do.  What you want _them_ to do...With a thought, I can take someone out of the fight at least and turn them on their friends at best.  It’s served me well over the years.”

 

“Should I use your own words back at you?  ‘The foreplay is getting tiresome.’  Tell me what I have to do before I lose patience and decide I’m not interested anymore.”

 

He shifts his weight and rests his assault rifle nonchalantly against his shoulder, cocking his head to the side.

 

“I think it’s best if you just try to activate your biotics and then change the... _intent_ of them, I guess.  The color will change; that’s how you’ll know you’ve got it.   Breathe deep, from your diaphragm.  Concentrate on what you want...”

 

Azure flickers over him and his face goes blank.  I sidle next to him, residual pain warring with the drugs.  He watches me out of the corner of his eye.

 

“ _Concentrate_ ,” I breathe, tilting my head up to whisper in his ear.  “Think about wanting control…”  I slide a hand cautiously up his bicep.  Good.  His biotic aura buzzes against my palm and exacerbates the prickling sensation under my skin from the needle.  My fingers close around the dense muscle.  Still no reaction from him...even better.  I feel the O-E start to recede a bit; I still can’t access my own biotics, but I can feel them growing.  Luckily, I am asari and still have one more trick up my sleeve.  I allow my eyes to go fully black and dig my fingers into his arm.  Foolish human.  It’s a mistake he won’t be alive to make again.  The creature in my gut is practically euphoric at the victory.  Shame it was so easy.

 

“ _Look into my eyes, Shepherd...tell me you want me.  That you’d kill for me...anything I-HNNNGH!_ ”

 

The breath is torn from my already abused ribs, his fist buried in my side as I’m doubled over and retching.

 

“Consider that your only warning,” he growls. “Next time won’t be so pleasant.”

 

I gasp and stagger away from him, clutching my side.  I’ll be lucky if nothing is broken.  Lineah starts to stir from her heap on the floor.

 

“Understood.  Try again.  I promise, no tricks.”

 

Blue crackles over him again, determined look on his face.

 

“Think about the anger you felt towards me,” I whisper, hobbling in front of him.  Watching him.  “Think about what you wanted to _do_ to me, in that moment.  That you would do just about anything to survive.  That you _wanted_ me away from you, at all costs.”

 

His jaw clenches and the blue starts to fade, almost white.

 

“Think about how what you want is the most important thing in the galaxy.”

 

 _There_.  

 

It tips light green and a flash of triumph is almost too quick to see on him.  It fades out as quickly as it came on, a feral grin spreading over his lips.

 

“That’s...a very interesting trick.  Now what?”

 

“Now comes the fun part.”

 

I look over at Lineah.  Her skin has an ashen quality to it.  If she hasn’t gone into shock yet about her ankle, she’s not far from it.  She’s managed to pull herself up to a sitting position and reaches out to him with a shaking hand.

 

“Shepherd…help me.”

 

Her voice is cracked and fragile, pleading.  He glances at me before kneeling in front of her, scanning her with his omni-tool.

 

“You look like shit,” he muttered.  “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t approach her unless you had us as back-up.”

 

“... _What_?”  

 

Cold realization hit the pit of my stomach.  Of course.  He sighed and stood up, turning to face me.

 

“You little _bitch_ ,” I spit, trying to duck around him.  It was easier than it should have been for him to deflect me away from her.  A wave of nausea overcomes me for a moment.

 

“Meet my contact, Mirala.  One of them, at least.”

 

“I should have known.  Was that where you went, when you left?”

 

He nods.  So convenient, all of it.  I shake my head, seething.  That was a poor choice on my part; my head swims at the motion and I have to close my eyes to stop the room from spinning.  

 

“So help me, goddess, I will see you dead before the night is through.”

 

“You’re in _no_ position to be making threats,” he snorts.  “I haven’t forgotten our bargain.  I would suggest you do the same.”

 

Hatred burns through me with the force of a thousand suns.  Lineah whimpers behind him.

 

“Don’t let her kill me… _please_...She’s the killer!  All the victims so far have been killed with biotics, but we couldn’t figure out the _how_ , exactly...but now I know.  I saw her do it.”

 

“Calm down, Lineah.  I saw it, too.  She’s not going to do anything to you that I wouldn’t do.”  His gaze locks with mine.

 

 _Ah_.

 

It seems he picked up on my insinuation and our deal is truly on the table still.  I duck my head and blink slowly at him.

 

“Concentrate and gather it in your palm.  Same mnemonic as a throw,” I say quietly.  "The more you do it, the quicker it happens and the easier it is.  It will become second nature, natural as breathing."  He nods once and breathes deeply, biotics swirling over him.  They turn green almost immediately and he holds his fist in front of him, focusing on building the energy.  Quick learner.  I’d expect nothing less. “You need a line of sight to your victim.  That’s all.  Release whenever you’re ready.”

 

“Shepherd?  What’s happening? _Shep-_!”

 

Her shrill protests are cut off abruptly as he turns around and unleashes it.  The look of surprise on her face is delicious.

 

“Can you feel her?” I breathe, “Touching your mind?  The fear, the panic...it’s a rush.  Isn’t it?”

 

A look of rapture washes over his face as he stares at her cowering form.

 

“What do you want her to do?” I continue, watching him.  “You _own_ her.  Give her a direction and she’ll either do it or die resisting.”

 

He glances at me and she gasps, collapsing back on the floor and panting heavily.

 

“You must not have meant it very much,” I say disdainfully.  “She didn’t do anything.  Either that, or she resisted more than I gave her credit for.”

 

“What happens to them when you control them?”

 

The question is soft and unassuming, but the hungry look on his face belies his intention.

 

“Nasty things.  You’re turning their body against itself, disrupting the synaptic harmonics and scrambling their ability to choose who is friend and who is enemy.  The harder they resist, the more damage they do to themselves.  It’s in their best interest to just roll over for you.  They receive a neural overload and that’s what enables you to gain control over it.  The entire time you’re in control, they keep receiving the overload to their nervous system.  Remember, Lineah?” I turn towards her.  “All the cerebral hemorrhaging?   That’s precisely what it is.  Is it as painful as it looks?”

 

She’s crying now, silent sobs wracking her lithe frame.

 

“I trusted you…” she blubbers at the human beside me.  “How could you do this?”

 

“Mission parameters allow for collateral damage in the retrieval of the target.  The Systems Alliance formally thanks you for your assistance.  Sorry about your luck.”

 

He almost sounds sincere.  I reach for his hand but stop before actually touching him.  He whips towards me, AR at the ready and pointed at my chest.

 

“I’m not going to do anything to _you_ …” I say, spreading my palms in front of me.  “I just want to _show_ you what’s possible.”

 

“...I touch _you_ ,” he replies somewhat testily.  I bow my head and face the other asari once more.

 

“The least you could do is put up a fight.  Go down with honor,” I taunt.  My biotics are rising along with the stain in my soul, hungry to feed the urge.

 

“I see none,” she says, blank and resigned.  His hand is heavy on my shoulder and I try to activate them.  They’re flimsy and weak, but they’re there.  I sigh deeply and let my mind go blank, coaxing my biotics to spill over me.  I feel his ignite in response, his aura licking and biting along mine like flames.  I draw his power into mine, bolstering the strength and doubling the force.  His strength of will is formidable.  I focus it on Lineah.

 

The rush I get when she dies is a high I’ll never be able to achieve again without him.

 

~***~

 

The last I see of him is him replacing his assault rifle on his mag-lock harness as he exits the warehouse, presumably talking to Harper over his comm.

 

 _“Second Lieutenant Mark Andrew Shepherd, service number 4130-Tango Charlie-2826, calling for encrypted line.  Mission check-in. Acknowledged.  Mission objective to obtain the asset: failed.  No...no.  She’s gone.  She must’ve gotten wind I was comin’ for her.  Not a concern to my eyes, sir.  Because she was already caught once…she can be caught again.  Yes, sir.  I’m not worried.  No, I’m not being smart with you.  Pff...no.  Because.  I have something better...What you were_ really _looking for, sir.”_

 

His shadow slides across the floor and over the threshold, and then he’s gone.  A veritable ghost.  I sit in silence, alone with my thoughts.

 

 _He let me go._  

 

Most intriguing yet.  It’s an unexpected gift, born of mutual respect, I think.  He doesn’t strike me as afraid, even though he’s seen me for what I’ve done.  And knows I will do again.  I sigh in relief, confident I’m alone once more and will remain so.  Thank the goddess I’ve been working on my next identity.  I rather liked my current one; she was effective.  But the reports will show Maliana died in the crossfire.  I wince and shift myself off the floor, activating my omni-tool and searching transports leaving tonight.  Luck is on my side; there’s a small-time gang moving product out of a small warehouse under the guise of a tourist cruise heading to Illium.  I limp out onto the dock, clutching my side and struggling to stand up straight.  Damn, but he hit _hard_ …

 

“What d’you want?” the reedy salarian wheezes.  He must have been tweaking; he keeps blinking, even more rapidly than they usually do.  I can smell the weakness oozing off him.  Acrid and sour.

 

“Just a ride,” I reply softly, cocking my head to the side with a smile.

 

“Keep walkin’.  No room.”

 

“I thought you might say that…” I say, allowing a bit of an edge to enter my voice.  I pull out my credit chit.  “I can give you 10,000 credits.  Five now, five when we make port.  And another five for your silence.”  He perks up at that.

 

“Ah, I misunderstood.  Very good, yes.  We have a lovely space in the captain’s quarters.”

 

“Done.”  I let him swipe my chit.

 

“A pleasure doing business with you, Miss...what was your name again?”

 

“Morinth.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

art by azzy!


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